


Treasured Memories

by oceanicmars



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Gen, Reincarnation, and yknow alistair trying to find his girl its nice, everyone is here from origins btw like Duncan and the entire inner circle from the game, i just didnt want to label em all since the key characters are listed above, i think, please read my fic i think its neat, trying to find a loved one from a past life, while more secondary ones are listed here i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2018-10-08 12:20:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10386540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanicmars/pseuds/oceanicmars
Summary: Missing words he never can hear, always cancelled out by the static, faces blurred and hidden from him, names are never said, and despite never living them, memories that continue to haunt him... Alistair has had enough.--- --- ---reincarnation au where alistair's past life come to haunt him in the modern day, and he's determined to know why, and find the one who tugs at his heartstrings, both in a good and bad way.





	1. Her Name

Every night, it’s the same scene; the sounds of metal clashing, people nervously chattering, the ominous distant growling of monsters in the woods… only for it to fade away when he opened his mouth to speak.

“You know,” he would always start, “one good thing…--” his voice fades here, the sound of static replacing his words, only for it to fade back in, “--...it brings people together.”

Laughter, followed by the fuzzy, soft words, “You are a strange...”

Her words die out. But he just smiles. He’ll say, “You’re not the first woman to tell me that,” before pausing, contemplating, and continuing to say, “Wait, we haven’t met, have we? I don’t suppose you to be... “

Missing words he never can hear. Always cancelled out by the static, similar to those you would hear on a old radio or T.V.

“We haven’t met,” the other voice says in a whisper, almost non existent if Alistair didn’t pay close attention, “You must be Alistair.”

“And that makes you…--” his words here always fade in and out, a mess of jumbled words that was missing crucial information, “--new recruit… Glad to meet you. As the junior member.. I’ll be accompanying you… prepare…”

And then the words he hear so clearly from her, only to die at the end.

“Pleased to meet you! My name is…”

 

The sound of an alarm blares in his ears. Per usual, his response is to smack the clock away from him, only to then hear the soft thud of it hitting the floor. Yet the alarm, as always, still rings.

He groans, and with one hand wipes his eyes before slowly opening them. Soft and warm, the sunlight peeks through his curtains onto his face. He stretches, yawns, and slowly props himself up with his elbows.

 

First thought of the day? _Fuck_ Mondays.

 

Dragging himself out of bed, he picks up the alarm clock and turns it off, placing it back where it belongs and pats it twice to apologize for his rude behavior. Then he walks towards the bathroom down the hall and stares at himself in the mirror.

“Nothing new,” he states to his reflection, “Nothing different. No mutant skin rashes, no horns with devilish fangs, and no claws in site. Shame.”

Here he was hoping he would have an excuse to not got to work today. But, alas, not everything goes as he would wish. So instead, he just hopped in the shower and prepared himself for the day. The sound of the laughter from his dreams echoes in his mind, but he quickly begins to think of something else, ignoring the stupid noise.

 

He didn’t dwell on his dreams. Not anymore. They started when he graduated high school, and hadn’t stopped since. He usually just ended up frustrated, confused and somewhat emotional by not knowing what was going on in them. They were never very clear, always sounding like it was coming out of static, words were missing, faces often blurry. Hell, even he was inaudible. He knew he was saying something, but he never knew what.

So he just gave up.

He just let the dream play out, wake up, and forget about it. Less frustration and confusion, more time to focus on his life. Sure, they would often intrude his thoughts, but he would quickly redirect said thoughts elsewhere and be fine.

 

Once he finished his shower, he turned on the T.V and made himself a bowl of cereal. Sitting down, he took his phone out and began to check his Twitter feed, as well as listen to whatever was happening. In all honesty, he just had it on as background noise, something to tune into in case his dreams decided to sneak into his mind.

“As I have stated before, and I shall do so again,” his attention is pulled to the T.V now, as he watches that passionate red-head go off again, even though he knows she’ll show up on his feed later, “Loghain's policies will on drive our town to ruin. Mayor Therin has been doing fine. I don’t understand how--”

The television’s screen turned to black as Alistair put the remote down. _Politics_. There’s some scandals, some promises that weren’t fulfilled, some jackass thinking they can do whatever and screwing over the people. Always annoying, overall depressing to listen to. He knew they would affect him and his livelihood but he just didn’t have the heart to listen. That, and he never really understand politics.

Besides, he didn’t need to know how the Mayor was doing. He didn’t _want_ to know. If he really cared he would’ve googled the man, or even facebook-checked him.

 

He looked at the time. If he left now, he could make it to work in fifteen minutes, and be early for once...

“Or,” he said, putting his coat on, “I could walk there in thirty minutes and be just on time. Why waste gas on such a pretty day?”

No response. A bit disappointing, but also reassuring.

Grabbing his keys, wallet, and other essentials, he took a deep breath in and walked out of his cozy little apartment.

 

The spring breeze, soft sun, and bright day brought a sense of calm to him. He hummed happily as he strolled down the street, looking up at the clear sky. As usual, this small town was quiet, not bustling with people but not quite empty either; for him, it was just right.

With the weather being as beautiful as it were, he decided he’d cut through the park today, just to see the leaves rustling with the breeze, hear the birds singing. It wasn’t everyday you get to experience such a lovely spring morning.

Alistair tried to find enjoyment in the little things.

 

“Pudges!” a voice cried, “Stop pulling on the-- Pudges!! Slow down!”

Just on cue, a large, slobbering dog rushed past Alistair, dragging along by its leash a rather short woman in a large sunhat, desperately holding it down so it wouldn’t fall off. Despite her pleas and struggles though, she was laughing as she got pulled along. Alistair couldn’t help but smile fondly at the two as they passed, watching them fumble away, before chuckling and turning back around to continue on his way.

At the exact moment he faced forward though, laughter from his dreams exploded in his ear, and when he blinked he was soon surrounded by a deep green forest, the smell of blood and mud filling him, as he stood behind three people.

_“Let’s go, Alistair,” the one leading them said, giggling, “Otherwise… will get upset!”_

Startled, he tried to take a step back, only to trip on his own feet and fall backwards. Landing directly on his back and slamming his head on the pavement, he yelled in pain, then curled up into a ball, hands holding the injured area. When he opened his eyes, he was back in the park, the trio nowhere to be seen.

It took a bit before the pain receded just enough for him to sit up. That was new. Still annoying, but new. He grumbled a few curse words under his breath as he tried to get back on his feet, then took a moment to compose himself before storming down the park to work. His head hurt immensely, and he felt incredibly drained, as if all the energy from earlier was sucked out of him. As to what had just happened, he didn’t want to think about it. It was just like the dreams, so he will treat it as such. Ignore it and focus on life. Simple as that.

He soon reached the local fire station, better known as his work, and sighed. Hopefully they’d have an ice pack and some advil or ibuprofen to help with his head. If not, he was honest to god fucked and doomed to have a horrible day. But, this being a fire station, he was sure they’d have something. He hoped. Not every day he asked for meds… not everyday he had a vivid flashback.

Walking in, the bustling noise of paperwork, typing, and chatting filled his ears, and despite his migraine, he felt at ease. This was a safe place for him.

 

“Good morning Alistair,” a voice said, and he grinned as he turned to face Duncan, his chief and Alistair chosen father-figure, “You’re a bit earlier than usual. Did you drive?”

“Nope! Just sped down the road, took a short nap, ate some dirt, saw some--”

“Alistair.”

“Right, well, I just walked here sir. Simple as that.”

Duncan huffed, but smiled fondly at Alistair in the end.

“Well, get to it then,” he says, “We have a busy day ahead of us.”

“Sure, of course. Very busy. Do you think we’ll finally save a kitten from a tree?”

The look of disapproval was worth it. “Alistair…”

“Right. Got it. Serious time. You can bet on me to be extra serious.”

 

Just before they parted ways though, Alistair cleared his throat and leaned backwards a bit when Duncan eyed him curiously.

“Could I perhaps, if it’s properly proper by you, uh, I need some pain pills, and an ice pack, pretty please?”

Duncan raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms and waited for the explanation.

“See, on my lovely stroll to work, I uh, may have tripped, and well, I have a rather large lump the size of an egg on my head, so I would appreciate some medicine and ice to help it. Pretty please?”

Duncan sighs, and gestures to the medical box on the wall.

“Go for it,” he says, “But don't push yourself if it still hurts. I need my newest recruit in top shape. And if the egg doesn’t go away, well, maybe a dragon will hatch from it.”

 

Alistair grins. Duncan was the best boss, ever.

 

* * *

 

“I’m telling you, saving a kitten would be very interesting.”

“And I’m telling you that this report needs to be written, Alistair. We’ll talk at the bar tomorrow night, yeah?”

Alistair huffed, but knew the man was right. He needed to work on his own reports after all, there really wasn’t time to screw around.

“Duncan will get upset,” he murmured under his breath, as he reached out to grab his papers. At that exact moment though, as soon as the last syllable left his mouth, the scene from earlier in the park played vividly around him. The one leading them turns slightly to look at him, her brown hair flowing in the wind, smile cheerful and free.

_“Let’s go Alistair!” she once again says, giggling, “Otherwise Duncan will get upset!”_

When he snapped out of it, back to his reality at work, bile overflowed in his throat and lungs. He covered his mouth immediately and rushed to the bathroom. Once inside, he hurled into nearest toilet, emptying the bile and most likely the contents of his stomach. It took a while before the feeling went away, but once it subsided, he angrily flushed away the waste. Taking all his energy to stand back up, he wobbled over to the sink, letting cool water run as he stared at the mirror, at himself.

“I’m going insane,” he mutters, “I’ve finally lost it! Childhood trauma finally caught up to me and I am going insane.”

He washes his hands, splashes his face, and looks back at the mirror. He looked pale, sickly almost, but he was still him. Not covered in mud, not surrounded by a forest, he was still Alistair, the firefighter in a small town having crazy dreams and visions.

“I’m going insane,” he hisses at himself, “Those dreams are _just_ dreams. Visions are _visions_. They aren’t going to destroy my life because they feel a bit more realistic than they should.”

He wished he sounded more convincing.

 

When he meekly swayed out of the bathroom, he opened the door to find Duncan standing before it, waiting for him actually. So he grinned, scratched the back of his head, and slowly began to go back into the bathroom.

“ _Alistair_ ,” Duncan scolded, and Alistair turned back to face a disapproving frown on his boss’s face, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Alistair says, though he really isn’t, “Just a bit of morning sickness.”

“It’s five thirty in the afternoon.”

“Okay, afternoon sickness.”

“Do you need to go home?”  
  
“No!” Alistair pleads, a bit shocked at how desperate he sounded, “No, no, I’m fine, let me stay, please.”

Duncan raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced, but sighs loudly and shrugs.

“Fine. Just take it easy. Don’t drink too much tomorrow. Make sure to rest up and let me know if you need to take your next shift off.”

“Thank you, Duncan. I won’t let you down.”  
  
“I know you won’t,” he places his hand on Alistair’s shoulder, “I trust you.”

 

Alistair watches as he returns to his office, and can’t help but beam. He respected Duncan greatly, to the point of appointing him to a secret father-figure, and having his approval was always appreciated.

The words from his dream vision echoed around him.

Now, his smile faded, and he stares at the door leading to Duncan’s office. But just like he always does, he slaps his cheek, and wipes his face in disgust.

“It’s _just_ a dream,” he murmurs, “You’re dreams are just involving real like people. It’s _not_ real. There’s _no_ connection. Stop. _Just..._ stop.”

But his own voice echoes in the back of his head now.

 

_Is it really all just dream?_

* * *

Every Tuesday and Friday, he and his work buddies would go out to a local bar called The Crow to drink, eat, and just relax. Tuesday’s because the Monday shift was the most stressful day and they needed to wind down, and Friday because free refills. Today though, Alistair just couldn’t join in. He felt so drained and for once, bothered by those ridiculous dreams. So much so, that he realized his friends were watching the game now, the conversation dying away.

He felt shitty, but sighed. Not much you can do at this point.

 

“Something on your mind, my friend?” he hears, and turns to face the bartender, smirking at him, “A girl, perhaps? Unrequited love?”

“What?” Alistair squeaks, before clearing his throat and saying, “No, no no no, no girls--”  
  
“Then perhaps a man?” is thrown in before he can finish.  
  
“ _No!_ ” he practically declares, now a bit embarrassed, “No, there is no love. None. It’s not love related.”  
  
“Ah, but love is everywhere my friend,” the bartender sings, “It’s what drives us, keeps us alive. For example, I love my job, I love the people, and I love this town. It keeps me here, grounded. And you?”  
  
“What?”

“What do you love, my friend?”

“Oh, uh,” he thinks a bit, twiddling his thumbs, thinking he may as well go for it if it’s just some mundane things, “I love my job, I love my apartment I guess, and I definitely love cheese.”

“See!” the bartender exclaims, grinning, “Love is everywhere my friend, and it is strong. It is there whether you like it or not, and it will always be within you.”

“Wait, what is the point of this again?”  
  
“You are troubled by love, no?”  
  
Alistair snorts, shaking his head. This man sure was something else.    
  
So he begins to say, “Look, I’m not--” before he realizes he’s no longer in the bar, his head pounding as he hears the trees swaying within the breeze.

 

_The smell of a campfire mixed with the sweet scent of a rose fills him, and he looks down at the girl before him, heart pounding as she examines a rose in awe, her cheeks a soft pink tint. She’s happy, a genuine smile shown, it’s been awhile since he last saw it._

_“I thought,” he hesitates a bit, but continues, needing to get this out, “Maybe I could say something. Tell you what a rare and beautiful thing you are to find amidst all this… darkness.”_

Before she can even speak though, he snaps out of it, staring at the bartender who looks rather concerned for him.

“Sir?” the man asks, “Are you alright?”  
  
He looks down at water droplets that formed on the bar table before him, and watches more drip down to combine with the already present ones. He brings a hand up to his face, and is shocked to feel tears running down his eyes. He quickly wipes them away, confused.

“I’m fine,” he begins, trying to figure out what just happened, “I’m just tired. Not your fault.”  
  
“I did not mean to push--”  
  
“No, actually, you helped,” he looks up at the man, smiling as best he can, “You helped me, thank you.”

The bartender doesn’t look convinced. Alistair doesn’t know why, but he feels the need to explain, to talk more to this stranger.

No, stranger wasn’t right.

This man, the bartender, he felt familiar. Like, a trusted friend forgotten with time. He brought a sense of calm, of joy to Alistair. He trusted him, and Alistair realized that it was the kind of trust where he knew this man would have his back.

 

_Odd._

 

“I uh,” he begins, “You were right. Some love troubles, yeah.”

The bartender grins once more, intrigued as he says, “I thought so. We all are troubled by love.”

“Have you uh, have you ever been troubled by it?”  
  
“Oh yes, countless of times, each very exciting and extravagant. But this isn’t about me, we are talking about you now.”  
  
“I uh, yeah, you’re right. I just…” the words trail off, as he tries to assess his feelings, “I remembered someone I cared about a lot. I loved them, actually. More than I thought I ever could.”  
  
He hesitates again, the dream-- no, the memory fading, but the emotions are remaining strong. For once, he thought he should accept it. Maybe it was the booze or his state of mind but he knew there was no point to ignoring it. It was becoming more present in his life. He had to start learning why, and by accepting it, maybe he could finally know.

 

“I… I don’t remember the details,” he murmurs, “I just… they meant the world to me, you know? I wanted to protect them, to be with them always. They were so, so beautiful, a light among all the darkness.”

He pauses, and bites his lower lip.

“What happened?” the bartender softly asks.

Alistair looked down at his reflection on the table, feeling a sense of disgust and disappointment take over him.

“I… I think I let her down. I failed her.”

He looks at the bartender now.

“I couldn’t be there for her. She… I don’t know. But something bad happened. And I wasn’t there. I couldn’t help her.”

 

The bartender now just smiles, leans towards Alistair.

“If I were you, sir,” he begins, “I would figure out who she is.”

Alistair’s taken back for a moment, surprised, only to blurt out, “What.”

“Who was she? As a person, to her friends, to you. Then, you will find the answers you want.”  
  
“How can you be so sure?”  
  
“I too am trying to learn who someone was,” the bartender murmurs, smiling as he looks away from Alistair, a faraway look on his face, “A dear friend of mine. I know that once I know who they were, I will learn why I am here.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Love never makes sense, my friend, but that is why it is so enticing, no?”

Alistair chuckled a bit at that, and sits back in his seat.

“You are an interesting man, uh…” he doesn’t see a nameplate, “May I ask your name?”  
  
“Zevran Arainai,” the bartender, Zevran says, “I get that quite often actually, it helps to be interesting to keep customers around.”  
  
“I bet. Alistair Therin,” he holds his hand out for a handshake, “Pleasure.”  
  
Zevran takes the hand and gives it a firm shake, before letting it go and returning to his bartender duties.

 

“Thank you,” Alistair begins, “for listening.”

“It is my pleasure,” Zevran says, “It’s one of the many perks to this job.”  
  
“I hope you figure out who your friend really was.”  
  
“And I hope you learn more of this mysterious lover, my friend.”  
  
Alistair snorts, and looks to the side.

“Me too.”

* * *

His dreams get more vivid after that night. It feels like he’s actually there now, not just listening in. The static is still there, obscuring the conversations he has, and often times denying him key information to solving this puzzle. But it isn’t so bad that he cannot learn of what is happening within his visions.

 

He soon realizes that they were not in the modern day. In fights, he watched as their leader commanded flame and ice, using a staff to conduct it towards their enemies. Perhaps it was because he was smitten with her, but he could’ve sworn she could dance within the elements, twirling and spinning within. While she was elegant, he was a brute, sword and shield in hand as he slayed those within their way. He swore to protect everyone, and never let anyone near his comrades, especially near the leader. It was obvious they lived within a fantasy world. He begins to assume these visions were from another life, one where magic was prominent and kingdoms stood tall.

He learns a lot of the world in his visions actually. There were various races; elves, dwarves, even some horned clan called Qunari. There were various classes one could have, such as being a warrior, a rogue, a mage. Mages were clearly looked upon in disdain though, as he often within the dreams would urge the leader to ignore the sneers and hisses towards her. There were nobles and commoners, slaves and clergymen. It was very different from their world.

While he knew vague information, key clues as to what things were called, names to people, even the locations were cancelled out by the static. Faces and even signs were blurred, hiding the information Alistair craved.

 

At the very least, he learns that he’s always with the leader, adventuring, and with them are two people; one with a singsong voice and the other with a quick tongue. Sometimes, they return back to a camp, with more people who all respect their leader. Alistair feels at home with these people, despite barely knowing them. They were once his family, all very important to him.

Now, when he was awake, the visions would hit him randomly. He could be in a conversation or walking, perhaps even doing nothing but daydreaming, when the vivid scene devours him and forces him to relive the possible past life. The length varies, lasting between a few seconds to possible a good five minutes. The longer the vision, the worse he felt, to the point of even blacking out. Though he felt drained, he would sometimes look forward to the next vision, determined to learn why it had become so prominent now of all times.

It was also because the girl, their leader, she was absolutely extraordinary.

 

She was young but strong. She could direct them with ease and lead them to victory. She was curious of the world and eager to help anyone who needed it, yet lacked people skills, never really knowing how to communicate properly. She always was hesitating. Despite it never being addressed in the dreams, he knew it was because of her upbringing. What that was like though, he still didn’t know.

She always stood beside Alistair. They were a pair, always together. He knew from the dreams that he thought she was beautiful when they first met, but as time passed he learned she was lovely as well, and Alistair was drawn in by her charms. He fell in love with her. And from the dreams, he knew, she was in love with him too.

These happy dreams though, always leaving him with warm and fuzzy thoughts, often felt nostalgic. As if they had occurred a long time ago, were distant memories. He missed these times for some reason, and he wished he could go back. He didn’t know why though.

 

He didn’t _want_ to know why either.

 

* * *

He remembers her name when he’s surrounded by fire.

 

They got a call, an apartment building spewing flames out. Alistair and a couple other guys go to the scene, and quickly begin to work on getting this thing tamed.

It wasn’t too crazy, but it wasn’t easy either. The flames twisted and grew with the wind, and occasionally lashed out at the building or sometimes them. It danced as they tried to put it out, teasing them, but Alistair and his crew weren’t fazed at all. They just worked at it, putting it out as best they could.

“Look out!” someone cries, and Alistair instinctively snags his crewmate by the back of their shirt and dives backwards just as beams aflame fall in front of them. The flames now screech at them, reaching out to pull the men in. Alistair covers his face as the flames approach, but realizes his crewmate is panicking.

“Get up!!” he commands, rushing over and pulling the man to his feet, “Get back before more fall!”

The man’s legs wobble underneath him, and Alistair hears the creaking of the pillars above. He isn’t going to lose someone today. So mustering all his strength, he practically throws the man away from the fires, and in turn is blown away by the impact of more beams falling behind him. He rolls on the ground, coughing out ash and blood from the cuts in his mouth. It stings, but he has to get up, he has to move.

 

_When he looks up and finds himself in a field being devoured by flames, the building gone, he isn’t surprised. Instead, his thoughts were only filled with worry for their leader, subconsciously knowing he was going through one of the more vivid visions. He spots her standing in the middle of the fire, whipping her staff around as flames continue to spew in bouts. Her tearless cries fill the air alongside the violent crackling of the fire, drowning out the morose cries. The fight is over, but she can’t tell. She’s panicking._

_“Calm down!” he screams, He winces as the flames attempt to lick him, but yells once more, “Look at me, look at me! It’s over!”_

_He gets up, spitting blood into the dirt and stumbles towards her, the flames spewing from her staff still lashing out, singeing his skin more and more as he nears. He has to, no, needs to help her. So he takes a chance and runs towards her, pulling her in and embracing her as tight as she can. He has varying burns on his uncovered skin, but with proper care he should be fine. He only cared about ensuring she was okay._

_She’s shaking violently, her breathing uneven now that she has stopped screaming, sounding erratic and desperate for air. It takes her a bit to realize Alistair is holding her, and she soon grasps onto him, the flames subsiding as she clings to him. He hears her staff make a soft thud as it now rests on the ground._

_She’s never killed a person before. The creatures that hunted them, yes, but never an actual person. She’s never had the blood of others on her hands. This was extremely obvious, and it killed Alistair. He felt recruiting her may of been a mistake, but it was too late. She was forever stuck with this fate._

_When he knows she’s stopped attacking, he releases her and bends down to get to her face level, but proceeds to cup her face in his hands. She’s no longer breathing as erratically as before, but she’s still panicking, eyes darting around in fear. Desperate to make her look at him, Alistair rests his forehead on hers, only now realizing both were shaking._

_“I’m here, “ he breathes out, tuning the world around them out, “it’s okay, you’re okay. Look at me.”_

_Her brown eyes finally see his, just as large fresh tears form in the corners._

_“Alistair?” she murmurs, and he nods, “I’m… I’m so sorry.”_

_“No, no, shh,” he whispers, “It’s okay. We’re okay. You got them, they won’t hurt us anymore.”_  
  
_“But I hurt you.”_  
  
_“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”_  
  
_He watches her eyes wander to the corpses behind him, but the way they’re situated she won’t be able to see everything. Just bits and pieces._

 _“Why did they attack us?” she cries, the tears rolling down her face, “I don’t… I didn’t want to hurt them.”_  
  
_“Sometimes people just make bad choices,” he reassures her, “You tried, but it couldn’t of been helped.”_

_“What do we do now? They… they didn’t deserve this.”_

_“We keep going,” he smiles as best he can for her, “And we make sure this doesn’t happen again. We make sure that this never happens again because we are going to fix this mess. Together.”_

_She places her hands over his, trembling still as the tears fall slowly._

_“I’m scared,” she whimpers, “I don’t want to hurt innocent people.”_

_“Don’t be,” he whispers, “I’ll help you always, just like now. I’m here for you, **Ryleigh**.”_

When he says her name, a rush of emotions strike and stab him, to the point where they overwhelm him so much that feels like his chest would explode. It’s joyous, but also painful and heartbreaking as he now knows who had been haunting his dreams. He doesn’t know why.

When he opens his eyes again, he’s looking up at a paramedic and his crew. They all look worried, they’re talking to him, begging him to respond. But he can’t. He hears that the fire was tamed, Duncan and reinforcements arrived, but he can’t answer their cries. Instead, tears swell in the corner of his eyes, and he stares up at the deep red sky, feeling strangely at peace.

He knows her name now. She was real, she was someone to him. She had a name. Her face was so clear in his mind now, full of awe and wonder of the world.  And yet, it still felt like a distant memory. As if she no longer looked that way, like he was reminiscing the past.

Ryleigh. Her name was Ryleigh. He repeated it over and over in his head, desperate to remember it always.

Ryleigh, Ryleigh, Ryleigh.

It _was_ her name.

  
And those exact words felt extremely heavy in Alistair’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! thank you so much for reading my fic! i'm currently working on chapter 2, leave a comment telling me what you thought!! i'm really excited to share this story with the world, esp since it's something i've had in my mind for a while!! thank you!! <33
> 
> (contact me at oceanicmarina.tumblr.com!)


	2. One thing, and one thing only

“You’re lucky you are not out of commission, Mr. Therin,” the doctor says as Alistair signs the discharge papers, “I understand your job is dangerous, but please do be more careful. Heroics mean nothing if you die doing them.”

“Yes yes, Dr. Wynne,” he chimes, “I know very well the dangers. But you just love taking care of me, right?”

She huffs, but smiles anyways.

"Perhaps if we met when you are _not_ grievously injured, I would enjoy these meetings more."

He grins, and hands the papers and pen back to her as he asks, “Am I all set for today?”

"Yes, now hurry along and let Duncan know you’re only going to be off work for a few days. He may not show it, but he’s extremely worried.”

“I will. And in all seriousness, thank you for always patching me up.”

As she opens her mouth, the world around them fuzzes, and he’s in the camp, arm outstretched as an elderly woman wraps it up.

_"You should take care of yourself more,” she says. He just looks to the side._

_“I’m sure…--” the words are cancelled out by the harsh static, only to come back, “--... wouldn’t want you to come to harm. Is that not why-- … --fighting?”_

_“When she isn’t trying to get herself…--” harsh static once again, his mouth moves but he can’t hear. His heart is heavy though when the words come back, “-- ...maybe I’ll do better.”_  
  
“Alistair?”

He snaps back into reality, and stares at the doctor in shock. She looks concerned and a bit confused, before repeating herself, “Alistair? Are you okay?”

“Fine!” he whips out, before clearing his throat, “Perfectly fine, peachy. Just spaced out.”

“Do you need me to check up on you again?” she asks, “If you aren’t feeling well--”

“Nope!” he cuts in, “I’m fine. Just got lost in thought, the many struggles of a fire fighter y'know.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but he knows she won’t force him if he isn’t ready. She knew that he couldn't be honest about everything, especially when he shared _that_ man's last name. So she just sighs and hands him a folder containing the prescriptions he needs and some other nonsense he could worry about later.

“Just don’t push yourself,” she tuts, “I don’t mind helping you, but I do mind if you hide anything from me. I’m here to help.”

“Yes, and I am grateful for that.” He heads towards the door, and turns around to wave, “Goodbye Wynne, I shall see you sometime later."

She smiles softly and waves back, and Alistair walks out of the clinic. As soon as he’s out though, he sighs and heads towards the fire department, pinching the bridge of his nose as he walks.

 

The visions are getting harsher and much more frequent than before. They still don’t answer anything though; he’s stuck with banter and small hints of who or what the person is. The only exception is Ryleigh, whose face is clearer than day in his mind. It feels almost natural that he remembers her, as if he never forgot. But it bothers him how as he now begins to advance within the memories, she slowly blurs in his mind once again. Despite remembering her, it seems like certain information is still blocked off, almost as if something was keeping him from remembering how she became as the journey went on.  It didn’t help when he first remembered her and it echoed in his mind, he realized that it he felt nostalgic. But when he realized it was, not is, her name, he felt sick.

He shook his head. For now, if anything, his priority was trying to figure out if Ryleigh was in this life and if she remembered him. There had to be a reason he remembered these events, and if he were to guess based off his emotions, it was to most likely make amends.

He failed her. He knew that much by the gut wrenching feeling he got as time advanced. But he didn’t really know how, so he hoped that once he met her, perhaps he’d remember, and he could apologize.

He _prayed_ he could apologize.

He took a deep breath, and stopped to look at his reflection in the glass window of one of the shops. It was still him, the same old Alistair who worked as a firefighter in a decent town. And yet, he felt older, almost wiser, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was due to the memories. He hoped to god it wasn’t, because he really did not need this kind of stress in his life.

"Help me understand," he muttered to himself, "I'm so confused. I need some sort of guidance, some sort of help."

  
  
"Alistair?" he heard as he jumped, startled by the sudden voice, only to see Zevran, the bartender from the other day, across the street. The man had been sweeping the front area of the bar, hair tied up in a loose fashion, sleeves rolled up to combat the somewhat warm day.

"Now what brings you here so early in the day," the man asks, a devious grin on his face, "I do hope it's not to drink yourself to a stupor."

"Nope, just on a small adventure. Drinking comes after finding the treasure," Alistair jokes back, combating the other's grin with one of his own. Zevran chuckles, and motions for Alistair to come over. Looking both ways because, well, safety first, Alistair rushed over, unsure why he was so happy to see the other.

"It's good to see you, my friend. How have you been?" Zevran asks.

"Oh just swell, save for some of the many perils a firefighter goes through," Alistair replies, "Sadly I'm off of work due to a small accident, so I won't have any dashing stories to tell for a while."

"And what a shame that is. But, I'm sure you'll figure something out."

"Here's hoping."

It was now that Alistair studied the man a bit more, taking in the various features. He wasn't a bad looking man. His eyes were almost golden if not for the hint of brown, but his hair made up for it, looking silky and shining a warm gold in the sun. He was shorter than Alistair, but still well built, and he always held his head high. The most noticeable feature though, was the tattoo on his face; two black lines that defined his jawline and made it pop out more.

"Your face tattoo..." Alistair begins, "Did it hurt?"

"Why? Curious?" Zevran asks, grinning, "Looking into getting a tattoo yourself now are you?"

"No, I just--" Alistair's voice dies off, as the smell of dirt and fire fills his lungs.

 

_Tiny water droplets from the tunnel’s ceiling make themselves known in the distance, accompanied by the occasional growls from whatever monsters lurked within. He looks around, confused by the sudden scene change, a sense of unease filling him. He resigns to curiosity though, allowing the flashback to overcome him. He turns to speak to the blurry figure beside him._

_"Didn't that hurt?"_

_"Oh, yes, yes." he hums, smiling coyly, "But it is not so bad, in truth. If you like, I could give you one. I learned a bit of the art myself in..."_

_Harsh static threatens his ears, but once it fades away he speaks once more, "Oh no. No, I don't think so."_

_"Come," the other butts in, "it will just be a small one. Perhaps the symbol of the...--" the static is loud, blaring this time before dying in an instant, "...-- something manly! Where are my needles?"_

_Alistair laughs meekly. Before he says another word, he takes a sharp intake of air and is back in present day, held by Zevran as the world around him spins._

"Are you alright?" Zevran asks calmly, as he steadies Alistair back to his feet, "Easy now... You suddenly collapsed mid-conversation. How do you feel?"

"Fine," the other mumbled, almost slurred really, "Just a bit of a blackout of sorts."

"Hm, well, come inside the bar for a bit," Zevran says, as he drags Alistair inside, not even giving the man a chance to protest, "I would never forgive myself if I sent you on your way, only to hear you collapsed once more. I have the A.C. running and I'll fix you a cold drink."

"No, it's..." Alistair can't bring himself to finish as he just groans, realizing how much the flashback really drained him this time. Zevran huffs, and speeds the pace up. The cool air inside tickles Alistair, sending small shivers up his spine as he's set down on one of the stools. Zevran heads behind the counter, looking slightly amused.

"To think asking about tattoos makes one faint," Zevran jokes, "How peculiar you are, my friend."

"Ha, I am a bit squeamish with the idea of needles," Alistair quips back, but groans once again, feeling heavier than usual, "Damn, never had this happen before."

"Are these "blackouts" frequent? You should see a doctor if so."

"No, it's just exhaustion--" as soon as the words leave his mouth, he feels guilty about lying all of a sudden, so instead he looks to the side and quickly says, "I'm fine."

"Hmm... I see. Well," Zevran hands Alistair a cool glass of water, "Take your time, the bar doesn't open until much later. Or, you can even stay when the bar opens; I'll let you have a drink on me."

"Ha, thanks. But I'll pass on drinking tonight."

"Suit yourself."

 

Alistair stares at the water as small droplets run down the side and gather at the base. Zevran hums a small tune as he polishes a different glass, but Alistair can feel his curious gaze on him, clearly worried for his well being. He felt shitty for imposing.

"Zevran?" he hears, and turns to watch someone walk into the bar, "I let myself in if that's all right, I hope you're in here. They let me go home early, something about... something...

Short, ginger hair in a bob, dressed up in her usual attire he had seen on television, stood the passionate news reporter, looking just as startled as Alistair felt.

"Ah, Leliana my dear, come in," Zevran hums, "I just have my friend here relaxing for a bit."

"Your... _friend_ ," Leliana asks, "And why didn't you tell me your friend was over...?"

"You did not ask."

She now glares at Zevran, before sighing loudly and walking over, plopping herself next to Alistair at the bar. Alistair looks back at his glass, unsure of what to say. It’s not everyday you meet the controversial, popular news reporter everyone talks about. It's not something you ever plan on doing, either.

 

"The usual, my dear?" Zevran asks, and Leliana mumbles a small yes. Now Alistair watches the man whip together her drink in a flashy manner, almost dancing as he hums a new tune.

"You know, I think you will like Alistair," the man says in a sing song voice, "He has visions like you."

"Zevran!" Leliana snaps as Alistair asks “What?” in time with her.

The man laughs, and hands Leliana her little concoction. He has a sly grin on his face as he says, "Alistair is looking for a forgotten loved one as well."

"... Wait, is that why you were so persistent when you first asked me what was wrong?" Alistair asks. Zevran just shrugs, a coy smile on his lips. Alistair can’t help but grin as he cries, "You sly fox!"

"You had the same face and made the same sighs as my dear Leliana here," the man chimes, "I simply asked if they were the same woes, and lo and behold, they were!"

"But it's not something you should share so nonchalantly, even if it is similar," Leliana grumbles, "That's a very private issue. Plus, he may spread rumors and I don't need that drama added onto what I already have!"

"Would it help if I promise not to spread any rumors?" Alistair asks.

"A little."

"I trust my friend!" Zevran chimes in, "He is a very honorable fellow. He would never spread rumors, not when he deals with the same problems!"

"Speaking of problems, you're acting as if you aren't looking for someone too,” Leliana now sneers at the other.

"Ah, but that is a friend, not a lover," Zevran corrects, "Besides, do you not find it funny how all three of us are here with the same woes? It's as if fate brought us together!"

Alistair and Leliana both chuckle as Zevran grins, almost excited by the idea.

 

"I suppose it is quite ironic," Alistair begins, "But I'm sure it isn't the same thing. We're all probably just suffering the same... whatever this forgotten nonsense is."

"But what if it is?" Zevran leans in, "Perhaps we can help one another remember and find out if it's different or not. Perhaps we all are looking for the same person?"

"Well, what's the person's name?" Leliana asks, "Neither of us really know who we're looking for, Zevran. Do you know the person's name, uhm..."

"Alistair," he answered, "Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Leliana."

"Please, Leliana is fine," she tuts, "I hate being called Ms. Leliana, too formal."

"I'll keep that in mind. As for the name, I mean, I only have their first name."

"Well, that's better than what me and Zevran have," she sighs out, "Blurry visions, small bits of conversation, and just scenes of places and things we've never been to, never done."

"Same here. Well, except the no name part."

"Well, what’s their name?"

"Ryleigh."

Leliana repeats the name under her breath, almost in a daze as she adds, "Pretty name."

"I want... I think I want to make amends with her," Alistair murmurs, "I think that's why I remembered her. To ask her to forgive me for... something horrible I did, I guess."

"Mm, not me," Leliana hums, "I want to tell the person I'm looking for that I wish I told them sooner I loved them."

"Didn't Zevran say they were a forgotten lover of yours?"

"More like a one-sided love on my end," Leliana says with a sad smile, "I cared for them so, so much, but that same love got in the way with me admitting how I truly felt. And before I could, they were gone. I regret it a lot, or so I remember."

"I'm sorry," Alistair’s heart twists at the words as they leave his lips.

"As am I. But I'll find them somehow, and finally tell them. And then, I won't feel this way anymore."

 

Alistair finds her interesting. She has a somewhat positive outlook on her situation, unlike Alistair who somewhat fears finding Ryleigh. He’s a bit envious if anything.

"What about you Zevran? Why do you want to find this mystery person?” Alistair now asks.

"Well, there are two I wish to find," Zevran says, "One to tell them that I was honored to be by their side, and that they were one who I was proud to call friend. And how I wish I could have done more to show that, to perhaps change their mind on... well, on something."

"I've never heard about the second person," Leliana says, "Who are they?"

"Someone who I wish to _demand_ an apology from."

The look on his face shakes Alistair to the core; while he was smiling per usual, there was a raging flame that shone darkly in his eyes, poorly hidden by his facade.

"What... what did they do?" Leliana asked, very cautious as she clearly noticed the change in Zevran's mood as well, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I only just remembered a while ago," Zevran says, the smile on his face forced and thin, "They abandoned us when we needed them most. I never forgave them. The anger from the memories festers within me, it seems. I can only think of getting revenge for their betrayal."

"That's... pretty intense," Alistair looks to his water, not sure what to really do or say, "I'm sorry."

"No no, I must apologize for killing the mood," Zevran says, the fire gone when Alistair looks back up at him, "I am a very passionate man after all. I let my emotions show very easily."

"Sure you do," Leliana teases, clearly relieved the other was back to normal, "You're the most secretive man I know."

"Me? You wound me Leliana!" Zevran laughs, "I'm very, very open, is that not why we get along?"

"Mmhm, _very_ open indeed," Leliana breathes out as she laughs, "I'm surprised you've put up with him and his prying, Alistair."

"What? Oh, uhm, well," he grins, "He did act as a councilor for me when I was sighing my heart out."

"He's just nosy," Leliana tuts, "Needs to know everything."

"'Tis part of the job after all," Zevran quips, "And it helps you when you need to learn some of the more nasty things some people hide, no?"

"Oh shush," she scolds, "That's our secret."

"And now it's my secret too," Alistair teases, and they all laugh. When he looks at the two, Alistair realizes he's very comfortable, relaxed and enjoying himself more than he would normally with strangers. He had only known Zevran for a day, and Leliana for a small bit of time, but it felt as if his heart had longed for these two. It was like coming home.

 

As they continued to talk, Alistair soon noticed how the room had darkened, hints of red beaming through the window shades. He couldn’t believe it was now dusk. When he checked the time on his phone, he saw a couple of text messages from his coworkers and remembered how he still had papers to deliver to Duncan. Shit.

"Well, I should get going," Alistair huffs, as he stands up and chugs the water, "Gotta let my boss know I can't work for a few days. I'll see you around I suppose, Zevran, Leliana."

"You sure you'll be alright now?" Zevran asks, and Alistair nods, "Well, be safe then. You're always welcome here, any time of the day… and here."

Zevran tosses Alistair a key, and he catches it at the last second, almost losing his balance.

"It's the key to the place. Let yourself in if it's locked, I'm usually hiding within."

"Y-You sure about this?" Alistair asks, "We've only just met."

"Oh, trust me, if he likes you, he likes you," Leliana chimes, "He gave me my key the same night we met. It's his way of making sure you visit."

"I get _very_ lonely," Zevran jests, "Leliana is a darling woman, but I would like some more manly men, you know?"

Alistair just laughs, and puts the key on his key chain, "Will do. Thanks for the key, and the water."

"Any time my friend!" Zevran says with a big smile on his face, "Come back anytime."

"See you 'round, Alistair," Leliana says, a small smile on her face, "I'd like to talk to you more when we can."

"You're not gonna release a news story on me, are you?" he asks, to which she just laughs.

"No, when I'm off the clock I don't want to do any stories. Just a chat between two friends."

He grins, "Then I look forward to our next chat, Leliana."

* * *

 

The walk to the station was pretty normal. No blackouts or harsh memories resurfacing to hinder him at all. He’s greeted warmly by most of his coworkers who worriedly ask him the same questions, such as if he’s okay or where he’s been. He just laughs and says he’s fine, and that he’ll be back to work soon.

When he enters Duncan’s office though, it’s a bit hard to laugh. His boss looks very concerned, and that kind of look made Alistair feel ashamed, hating the fact he worried the man for even a second.

 

“Are you okay, Alistair?” Duncan begins, as he places a folder to the side of his desk, “You normally don’t collapse like that.”

“Well, to somewhat justify it, I did save a man from many, many falling pillars of doom,” he tries to jest, but when Duncan gives him a disapproving look, he adds on with a sigh, “A lot has been on my mind, and I haven’t been in as good shape as I should be. It was a mistake on my end.”

“Does this have to do with you getting sick at work the other day?” Duncan asks, and Alistair nods in reluctance, “I told you to not push yourself.”

“I thought I could handle it, sir.”

Duncan sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. Alistair feels like a little kid again, only this time he knows he messed up pretty bad, and there really wasn’t a way to lie through this; when he was younger, it was much easier to escape trouble with lies and ignorance.

“Despite this report from Dr. Wynne, saying you’re fit for duty in a few days, I want you to take a vacation, Alistair.”

“What?!” Alistair almost snaps, but holds himself back, “But Duncan, I--”

“You heard me,” Duncan says calmly, “Clearly this… issue is eating you up, whatever it is. I’m not having you out there when you’re not fit for it.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Alistair retorts, “Besides, I’ve dealt with worse than this!"

“Alistair,” Duncan sighs, “I’m not stupid. I’ve seen the way you space out sometimes, and how exhausted you look. You haven’t been sleeping right, have you?”

 

It was true. The visions, the memories, all haunted him at night and had him wake up in cold sweat. They were powerful, threatening him with little teases of possible clues or identities, but never delivering what they promised. On good nights, he slept a good few hours before being woken up rudely by the dream. The bad ones, he rarely slept; if he even slept at all, staring at his ceiling with anger boiling in the pits of his stomach.

“I just… I can handle this,” Alistair says meekly, “I don’t want this stupid nonsense to get in the way with work.”

“I want you at your best, Alistair,” Duncan replies, “Once you’ve settled it, feel free to come back. You can come visit and perhaps even file paperwork, but you won’t be allowed out in the front lines.”

Alistair bites his tongue, more ashamed than when he walked in. Duncan stands up and walks over to him, placing a warm hand on his shoulder.

“I know you don’t like it,” the man says, “But I don’t want to see you hurt. As I said, once you figure everything out, you can come back.”

“I’m sorry,” Alistair says bitterly, “Didn’t mean to cause concern."

“It’s nothing to be sorry about,” Duncan gives a small smile, “Once you figure it all out and it isn’t eating you inside out, perhaps you can tell me about it.”

Alistair looks at Duncan, who only shows the concern and kindness Alistair remembers him when they first met. It’s what led him to respect the other.

“Maybe,” Alistair says, cracking a small smile himself, “It’s a pretty wild ride though.”

“We’ll chat about it over drinks then,” Duncan chuckles, “My treat.”

 

After Alistair fills a bit of paperwork out, and a quick recap of the deal he and Duncan had made, he exits the office; answering a few more questions from his fellow crewmates as he leaves the building. Once outside, he shoves his hands in his pockets and sighs.

A vacation, huh? Alistair really isn’t a vacation guy. But, hopefully it’ll give him time to get the memory vision business settled and return to his daily life without any flashbacks or blackouts.

Until then, he headed down to one of the nearby parks. It was a cozy little place with a small river that ran through it. Close to the local university as well. It wasn’t uncommon to find students studying, relaxing, or even dozing off around the area. Today though, it was a bit on the emptier side, not many people out and about, so he strolls on through, before stopping after a good ten, possibly fifteen minutes.

Standing on the small bridge that hangs over the river, he leans on the railing and watches the clouds daze on by. It’s soothing, and he can’t help but lean back a bit, closing his eyes to embrace the world around him. But when he opens his eyes again and looks back towards what should’ve been a park, he instead stands on a beaten road, Ryleigh standing a few feet before him.

 

_“Are you dozing off again?” she asked, hands on her hips as she grinned happily at him, “Come now, we must hurry!”_

_“What…?” he murmurs, and flinches when the bright beams of the sun shine in his eyes, “Wait, Ryleigh--”_  
  
_“If he is simply beaten by sunlight, I worry as to how this quest will go.”_

_He turns to look over at a blurry figure, and proceeds to frown at it._

_“Why can’t you just go crawl into the nearest bush and die?”_

_“Again with the same insults? Tis’ uncreative of you.”_

_“Hey!” Ryleigh yells, “Don’t pick fights!”_

_“She started it!!” he retorts, and Ryleigh sighs loudly._

_“Don’t bully him-- …!!” he hears a bit of the name, the static not as harsh as it’s always been, but it’s not enough for him to understand._

_“Perhaps if he showed some promise, or perhaps even a smidgen of potential, I could act decent. But he’s shown nothing so far.”_

 

_Ryleigh says the name once more in a slightly annoyed manner, and this time he hears the beginning, but it’s quickly cancelled out by the static. The figure beside him moves in a way he assumes to be a shrug, and he grins._

_“You just got scolded,” he teases._

_“You’re in trouble too, Alistair!” Ryleigh tuts, “Both of you need to get along, otherwise this journey to-- …” -- the static here is harsh and loud, unlike the previous static, but it dies when she speaks, “... -- be nothing more than bickering and annoyance.”_

_“But Ryleigh--”_

_“No, we are not discussing this, it’s a rule I came up with just now. Both of you have to either stop insulting one another, or we stay in one spot until you both apologize.”_

_“This is ridiculous--” the blurry figure begins, but stopped when Ryleigh crossed her arms and sat down. They both stare at her, and then look at one another._

 " _Fine,” she groans, “I apologize, Alistair, for stating--”_

_Ryleigh makes a disapproving noise, and the figure sighs._

_“I apologize, Alistair.”_

_“And I apologize as well, **Morrigan**.” _

  _He blinks, and the blurry figure in front of him has been replaced by a woman, eyes cold, arms crossed, very irritated. She shakes her head and walks past Ryleigh, who stands up and dusts her robe with her hands. She looks at Alistair, and grins._

_“Progress!” she says, as the sun blinds Alistair once more._

 

When he can see clearly, he’s back in the park, leaning on the bridge, as if nothing occurred.

His mind hurts like a bitch though, and he collapses onto his knees, coughing, his throat dry. It was like when he truly remembered Ryleigh, but instead of getting blasted into the ground by an explosion, he’s gasping for air like a lunatic in a park.

He clears his throat, using saliva to somewhat soothe the burn in his throat, and forces himself to get up. Luckily no one was really around to see that little fiasco, so he quickly makes his way down to the where the water fountains are, desperate to stop the pain. As soon as he gets there, he slams his hand on the button and proceeds to take giant gulps of water (even ended up choking at one point).

When he’s finished, he uses the collar of his shirt to wipe the excess of his mouth and takes a deep breath in, leaning a bit on the fountain for support. Closing his eyes once more, he tries to calm himself down, tries to remind himself not to freak out. Yes, remembering someone was exciting, but now that he did remember them, he knew one thing, and one thing only.

 

“Well, well. What have we here.”

He opens his eyes, and turns around to face the same woman from his vision, arms crossed, eyes cold as she smirks at him. He groaned, wondering why he had to remember _her_ of all people.

“To think I would find you of all people first,” she cooes, sounding as mocking as she did in those memories, “‘Tis truly unfortunate.” 

 

Alistair knew one thing, and one thing only, and it was that he really, _really_ didn’t like Morrigan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello reader! hope you enjoyed your fic, it's our favorite mage morrigan!! <3 what will happen now? the next chapter is almost done, it should be up sooner or later!! until then, leave a comment letting me know what you thought!! and shoutout to @riitsus on tumblr for helping me out with the fic!! <33 
> 
> (contact me at oceanicmars.tumblr.com)


	3. Roses for a Memory

Morrigan was the one person Alistair never wanted to meet again.

He remembered it all; the day they met, her overall attitude, his extreme dislike for her... It was all there, as if he never forgot. Out of all the people he'd seen in the visions, how he felt happy with certain people, of course,  _ of course _ it had to be Morrigan he met first.

She looked the same as she did in his memories, save for the attire. Black hair tied into a loose bun, her golden eyes shining with a mischievous gleam, all exactly how he remembered it. She was wearing pretty formal clothes, a black blouse accompanied by a purple blazer, with a pencil skirt in almost the same shade of color. She had a small rolling cart filled with papers and binders, a small purse sitting neatly on top. He wondered how far he'd get if he kicked it over and ran.

 

"A teacher?" he instead asks, and she snorts.

"Professor," she corrects, "I work for the university."

"Still a teacher, you teach," he says, smirking, "Never would've thought you'd be one."

"I enjoy studying history, but I need funding, thus working with the university allows me to do as I wish," she tuts, "Teaching is just a small bonus. Besides, most of my students are well behaved and interested in my studies, as well as history itself."

"Probably scared shitless of you," he snips at her, "You'd curse or hex them somehow."

"The only one I'd ever curse if I could would be you, Alistair," she says smoothly, "I see you haven't changed from your immature ways."

"And I still see you’re a witchy thief," he coos, "Why'd it have to be you of all people I remember."

"I'm not happy about it either," she says, "I would have liked to remain blissfully unaware you breathing the same air as me. But here we are."

 

Alistair wants to insult her, he did, but instead he takes a deep breath in and relaxes. If he remembered her, if they both knew one another, then he needed to talk to her normally. She possibly had answers he needed. He would set aside his pride this once just to try and get information from her.

"... Do you remember?"

She cocks her head, looking annoyed as she says, "What exactly are you asking Alistair?"

"Do you remember _her_."

Morrigan's mouth tightens to a thin line.

"If you mean Ryleigh... then yes. I remember her."

His breath hitches in his throat, and he feels... guilty. He doesn't know why, but wanting to talk about Ryleigh with Morrigan makes him feel uneasy.

"Anyone else?"

"Other than you?” her eyes avert to the side before she looks back at him, “No. I've only remembered Ryleigh until now. The others are... blurry, and distorted."

"How... how did you remember her."

"That's personal information."

He gets a bit angry, but once again calms himself as he says, "If there's a hint as to why we remembered her, or each other, I need to know."

 

Morrigan motions for him to follow, and begins to walk down the road. He hesitates for a bit, before following, keeping his distance from her but ensuring he could hear her if she spoke. It isn’t until they walk a bit further out that she begins to speak.

"One of my students, she helped trigger most memories of my previous life," she says, "Do you remember the Inquisitor? The Inquisition?"

He blinks, and thinks hard. Most of his visions were usually of Ryleigh, or the other companions. Otherwise, he had barely any information on other events.

"Not really," he finally says, "Been stuck with just visions of our journey with Ryleigh."

"I see. Well, to sum it all up, after our journey I ventured around, eventually joining forces temporarily with a different group. The leader from that life is a student of mine, and after encountering her, I remembered most of my previous life."

"Oh. Well, uhm, do..." he hesitates, but forces himself to ask, "Do you know what happened to Ryleigh?"

She looks away, hiding her face from Alistair.

"No," she murmurs, "I don't. Towards the end of the journey with her, I'm unable to get an idea of what occurred."

"Morrigan," Alistair says, as he steps in front of her to force her to look at him, "Are you being honest with me?"

She takes a moment to think before answering. "

"Yes."   
  


He doesn't believe her. 

But then again, he never really believes anything she says. So he chooses, just this once, to believe her and pray to God she's been honest.

"So how did you remember her?" he now asks, resuming his position beside her, "Like, I had visions since I was eighteen of everything. It was only recently that I remembered her name... and yours, too, I guess. But what I meant to say is, what triggered you into remember her?"

"It was with my student," she said, and Alistair became incredibly confused. She sighs, and in a annoyed manner, says, "The Inquisitor... her name is Elavi. She is the reason why I remember anything."

"How did someone who isn't Ryleigh remind you of Ryleigh."

She huffs, annoyed, but proceeds to say, "They... in the previous life, the two were very similar. Both leaders, yes, but they were both naive and trusted easily. I always felt like I saw bits of Ryleigh in Elavi."

"Oh. Well, that makes sense I guess," he murmurs, "I remembered her when a building was on fire. It collapsed, and I was thrown back by the blast."

"Of course you'd remember her in a barbaric fashion."

"It worked," he jokes, and she trifles a laugh. They reach a small bench, and Morrigan sits down, her cart beside her feet. She's left enough space for Alistair to sit down, even motioning for him to sit, so he does while watching her to ensure she isn't tricking him or about to sneak attack him… 

Sure, they were in broad daylight in a world where murder is harder to get away with, but he felt like she of all people would be able to do it.

 

They sit in silence. Morrigan checks her phone, texting someone, and Alistair just looks up at the sky. A few minutes pass, and Morrigan puts her phone away with a huff, displeased about whatever was on the device. Alistair decides not to pry.

"Why do you think we remembered each other?" he instead asks, "I never liked you. Still don't."

"Perhaps that's why," she replies, her gaze distant, "Hatred often is stronger than most emotions.

He contemplates it for a bit, before shrugging,

"How did you remember me?" he asks, “What triggered it?”

"Who knows?” she murmurs, “When I remembered you, It was at the beginning of the journey. We were fighting. Ryleigh demanded us to apologize to one another, and sat on the ground. I thought she was a strange girl, but did as told just so she would not hinder us anymore with her idea of peace."

Alistair laughs, "Same here. I guess we had the same vision then."

She looks surprised as she eyes him, and asks, "You had that vision as well?"

"Yup. Even the part where she was pretty happy about 'progress'--" he made the air quotes to accompany his words, "-- as if. I could never get along with you."

"The thought of it is revolting," Morrigan says with a small smile, leaning back on the bench, "Never would I get along with a mongrel like you,"

"Glad to know you haven’t changed, though,” Alistair can’t help but ramble, “I was worried. I’ve only seen blurred versions of everyone, so I wondered what would happen if you looked or acted differently from the visions. I don’t know how I’d react.”

“The visions should not dictate how you act with the others.”

 

Morrigan's tone clearly shows she means more than what has been said. But Alistair doesn't know exactly what, so what else could he do but push a little bit more? 

“Well…” he looks down at his hands, “They’re kinda the only thing I have in regards to you all. It's nice to be able to remember old friends, and it helps fill that empty feeling I've had for so long.”

“Holding onto them is foolish,” she bitterly snaps, quite uncharacteristically Alistair notes, “In this modern setting, it would be of no surprise if things are different. Those visions are just there to taunt us, to remind us of how we--”

She stops when she makes eye contact with Alistair, looking surprised, as if she forgot he was there. But that hardened, cold stare returns, and she looks away.

“You shouldn’t focus too much on them,” she finishes. 

“What were you going to say?” Alistair asks, “Why did you--”

“It’s nothing, Alistair,” she bites, “Tis nothing you should worry about. I only recommend you disregard the visions and move on with your life.”

 

Alistair’s anger gets the better of him. 

“Move on?!" he begins, standing up with his hands clenched in tight fists, "Don’t tell me what to do! I don’t know about you, but for the longest time I put aside these damn memories thinking they were some crazy dreams, but now I get answers and you're telling me to move on?! I finally know what… what  _ this  _ all means, so forgive me for wanting to reunite with Ryleigh and try to fix whatever I did wrong! If I am given the chance to apologize, I’m  _ going  _ to apologize.”

She looks up him with scorn, and Alistair feels nothing but fury boiling in his stomach when he sees the disgust in her eyes.

“Do what you will,” she says calmly, “Do not expect me to aid you.”

“There are two others I’ve met who probably are going through the same thing as us,” he growls, “I don’t need your help. I’m pretty sure the other two were part of our group, and once they remember, we’ll find Ryleigh and be happy again.”

“Have you considered that she isn’t a part of this life?” Morrigan snaps, looking absolutely foul, “And even if she were, what if she doesn’t remember that life? Are you going to force an apology upon a clueless girl and feel proud of yourself?!”

Alistair never thought of that. Nor did he even want to think of that. Instead, he just yells angrily, “She’s here! She's somewhere here, I know it!”

“That is just selfish, immature nonsense speaking!” Morrigan stands up now, challenging him head on, “There is no possible way of knowing she is here or if she remembers like we do!

“She has to!! Otherwise why are we here?! Why do we remember all of it; the journey, the battles, our friends?!!”

In the angriest tone, Morrigan practically yells, “None of you were _ever_ my friend!!”

 

Alistair is taken aback. He’s never seen her lose her composure. He’s always talked and dealt with a cool headed, snarky Morrigan who never let her emotions show. But this? He thinks this is the first time he’s ever seen her looking almost wild, breathing heavily in anger, looking startled by her own loss of control. They stand in silence, before Morrigan takes a large gulp of air, and stands straight, composing herself and becoming that cold-hearted Morrigan that Alistair knew.

“Talking to you is not worth my time,” she hisses, “If we are done here, I would like for you to leave.”

“... Why are you so convinced she isn’t here,” he asks, “What were you trying to say before?”

“Leave me be, Alistair,” she turns her back to him and grabs her cart, “It is nothing you need to worry about.”

With that, Alistair watches her walk away. He's a bit surprised at how he feels at the moment though, and looks down at his own hand, unsure what to really think.

 

He never thought he'd pity Morrigan.

* * *

A day after the encounter with Morrigan, Alistair heads to Zevran’s bar. He knows he enjoys their company, and he needs a way to forget the events of the previous day. Plus, if he and Morrigan remembered one another, maybe Zevran or Leliana remembered something, there could be the progress he was desperate for.

Using the key he got from Zevran, he unlocks the door and walks in. There’s the low sound of jazz playing, but otherwise it’s eerily quiet. Alistair wonders if he should’ve knocked first.

“Hello?” he calls out, “Zevran? Leliana? Anyone home?”

No response. He waits a bit, before calling out once more, but no dice. Perhaps he came too soon. Maybe he should've waited before allowing himself into the bar. He just shrugs, not really knowing what he should've really done, and heads back to the door with plans to drop by later that night. That way, less awkward, not as anxiety inducing, there’d be more people… Yeah, later tonight sounded good. 

When he opens the door though, there stands Zevran, holding a bag of groceries in one hand and a pair of jumbled keys in the other, looking surprised by Alistair’s sudden appearance.

 

“Oh!” Alistair begins, unsure what to really do now, “Sorry, I--”

“Alistair!” Zevran interrupts happily, much to Alistair's relief, “My friend, you came! Wonderful, go sit on one of the stools, I only need to put these down so we may talk. Go now, sit!”

He squeezes past Alistair, rushing to the counter. Alistair can't help but smile as he follows, setting himself down on one of the stools as he watches Zevran put away various things here and there. Once he finishes, Zevran turns towards Alistair and asks, “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Water is fine, thanks,” Alistair says, laughing, “Aren’t you rather cheery today?”

“Only happy to see my friend,” he grins, “Is that wrong?”

“No, no, just unexpected. It's nice to be wanted.”

 

Zevran grabs a glass and fills it with water. It’s here now that Alistair realizes the man has his right hand wrapped up, bandaged like no tomorrow. It stops around his wrist, but the fact that it looks like such a large wound worries Alistair. When handed the glass, he takes it carefully to try and see possible damage, but he still can’t really tell. 

“What happened?” he finally asks, and when Zevran looks cluelessly at him, he motions at the man’s hand, “That.”

“Ah,” Zevran looks down at his hand, and rubs his left one over it, looking quite forlorn, “Accidentally broke a glass cup. It was a foolish mistake, and cleaning it was… rather messy.”

“Hard to believe picking up glass pieces would cause that much damage," Alistair chuckles lightly, but watches Zevran carefully. The other just sighs, and looks off to the side.

“I...  shattered it in my hand,” Zevran says in a soft, sad tone, “Last night, while attending to some customers, I... I remembered something, and accidentally crushed the glass. It was quite the spectacle, but alas, the pain following it was not enjoyable."

 

Alistair's heart skips a beat.

"What did you remember?" he hastily asks, "Was it a person? A place?"

Zevran blinks in surprise, before looking down at his hand again, biting his lower lip before answering.

"I remembered the one I wish to exact revenge on," he murmurs, "The one who abandoned us all during the most crucial moment... Or something along those lines. I can't really remember well, I just... I know they hurt me. They hurt the one I cared about, they hurt a lot of people. I just don't know how, however."

"What's their name?" Alistair asks, and Zevran is clearly hesitating, so he softly, carefully says, "Please, Zevran, I need to know."

Zevran looks away.

"Alistair," he begins, "Did we... are we sharing the same tale? The same journey, the same people?"

"I'm beginning to believe it," Alistair says, "The way everything has been occurring, the similarities in our regrets and how we all met like this... I'm pretty sure of it."

"Then why don't I remember you?" Zevran asks in a sad voice, "It feels like I'm so close to remembering something, as if it were on the tip of my tongue, but when I try it fades away. And yet, suddenly, I remember things I never really was concerned about."

"There... there's got to be a pattern. I just don't know what yet. But you have to help me Zevran, and we might be able to figure out this mess of a story."

Zevran looks at Alistair now. 

 

"Their name... _her_ name was Morrigan."

He feels that same pity rise in him from the previous day, only this time it's accompanied by an uneasy, almost fearful emotion. 

"What... what did she look like, what was she?" he asks, and Zevran closes his eyes, clearly trying to remember.

"Black hair tied up, beautiful yet deadly golden eyes," he murmurs, "Very smart, clever. She was a powerful woman."

"I... I met her, yesterday," Alistair breathes out, a bit happy that it was the same Morrigan he knew, "We both remembered one another."

"You know her?" Zevran asks, to which Alistair nods. His eyes gleam in excitement and he whispers, “So we did experience the same journey!"

Alistair nods, and looks around quickly.

 

"Do you have a pen or paper I could use?" he asks, to which Zevran hands him a nice pen, and digs under the counter for a little notebook which he lays before Alistair; unused and brand new it seems. Alistair opens it, and on the first page, writes each of their names; his, Morrigan's, Zevran's.

"So I remembered Morrigan," he murmured, drawing an arrow from his name to hers, "And she remembered me," he now draws an arrow from hers to his, "And at some point during this time, you remembered her as well," and from Zevran's name to Morrigan's, another arrow is drawn. 

"Does she remember me?" Zevran asks, and Alistair shakes his head no. Zevran huffs, before pulling the paper towards him and staring at it.

"I just wish I knew what triggered it," Alistair huffs, "I don't know why I remembered Morrigan, why I can't remember you despite the evidence we had the same journey, or what happens at the end."

"Perhaps there's some event we must experience or some idea we have to think of?" Zevran says, before he frowns and asks, "How did you remember Morrigan?"

"I was in the park. I had just delivered papers to Duncan, erm, my boss, and was just trying to unwind... I don't know what could've triggered it."

"As you know, I was at the bar--" Zevran looks down at his bandaged hand, "I wasn't thinking of anything really, and the next thing I know I was just filled with... with..."

He bites his bottom lip, and clenched his fist. Alistair watches the man's eyes cloud with fury as the corners of his mouth twitch.

"I was filled with hatred," Zevran murmurs, "Disgust, anger, every negative emotion combined. And I don't even know why. All I know is she abandoned us but... I don't know when. Why."

"I never really liked her in general," Alistair says, "She was a witch. Er, bitch."

Zevran chuckles, and places his hands on the counter.

"I don't think I always hated her as I do now," he says, "There was a time I was charmed by her."

"Ew, gross! Morrigan? Are we talking about the same Morrigan?"

"Ha, you misunderstand. I realized she was a cunning, powerful woman, and was curious as to what she knew. And then... Well, now I just wish to see her and demand an apology."

"Looks like we’ve both got a bone to pick with her," Alistair recalls the day before’s events, "I hate that she's still a wi-- bitch after all this time. We're here in a different life, why can't she be nicer?"

 

Zevran stays quiet, and grabs the pen Alistair left beside the paper. Underneath all three of their names, he writes Ryleigh's name.

"How did..." he hesitates, tapping the pen tip beside her name before circling it, "How did you remember her?" 

Alistair smiles fondly at her name as he says, "I was combating a fire. One of the pillars fell and threw me back. Next thing I know, I was in the middle of a battle and she was blasting fire everywhere, burning the place up. I calmed her down and promised I'd stay by her side."

"So you had to get blown up to remember her?" Zevran asks with a teasing smile, and Alistair laughs.

"It worked for me," he says, "But otherwise... I don't see any connections so far."

"We'll learn eventually I suppose. I only wish I could remember you, my friend."

Alistair just smiles.

 

"One day."

 

They converse a bit more before Alistair takes his leave, not wanting to keep Zevran any longer. He promises to drop back in later this evening though, since Leliana would be there as well. They’d be able to share the information they learned with her, allowing them to hopefully make progress on this mess of a tale.

As he leaves though, he looks back at Zevan once more. The man leans on the counter, his back towards Alistair, but Alistair can tell he's looking down at his hand, thinking. 

He felt somewhat afraid at what Zevran could be thinking.

* * *

 

He spends his day walking around town, thinking of what could be triggering everyone to remember events or people from their past life. He goes through almost everything he experienced since he remembered Ryleigh, but nothing stands out. In the end, he wonders if it was just random, no trigger or event, just something that occurred when it wanted to.

Morrigan's words echo in his mind. Her crazed, desperate look as she lost her cool, fought with Alistair in a way he never would've imagined. The Morrigan he remembers was composed and cunning, never really exploding or showing such passionate emotions. He always thought she was nothing more than a cold hearted bitch. Apparently, she could feel strong emotions too.

The way she acted though, worried him. She seemed so convinced Ryleigh wasn't in this life, that she didn't exist almost. Why? What did she know that Alistair didn't? What had convinced her so strongly that Ryleigh wasn't around?

As he walks, a terrible, guilty feeling crept it's way into his heart, his footsteps echoing louder in his mind with each step. He begins to think of Ryleigh; of her smile, her bright eyes, her laugh; positive things to help him relax, memories of her and details that he held close to his heart.

He loved her. He still did. His heart swelled at her voice, he felt nothing but respect and adoration for the girl. She was filled with hope, she believed in the good of the world, and held many ideals not many people did.

 

So what happened?

 

Why, whenever he tried to think of the events later on, did that admiration disappear? Why was it replaced with a sense of dread, why did he feel so guilty. Did Morrigan know why his guilt, this dread, why all these negative emotions filled him as he tried to learn more of this girl? ... What had he done?

His thoughts became silenced when he heard the sound of glass shattering, jumping in surprise as he turned around, searching for the source. His eyes fell upon a small flower shop where a young girl began to quickly sweep up broken pieces of glass, a young man apologizing profusely beside her. Alistair took a deep breath, relieved it wasn't too serious. Usually, glass breaking meant there was a fire, robbery, or some crazy nonsense that occurred in his line of work. It was a stress-inducing sound honestly.

For some reason though, he couldn't avert his eyes away from the shop. He naturally found himself drawn to it, and before he knew it he was standing before it; the girl had finished cleaning and looked up from the mess at him. She smiled brightly, and said in a cheery voice, "Welcome!"

He nodded, unsure what to really say. The boy beside her looked at Alistair with a mix of confusion and distrust, before looking back at the girl and taking the dustpan and broom from her. She thanks him, and walks towards Alistair.

"How may I help you today?" she asks, gesturing to some flowers on display, "We're having a special on these bouquets, half price for all that’s shown before you!"

"Oh, uh, I... I'm only looking. Just got curious since I... Just looking, yup, sorry, I tend to ramble."

She giggles, and Alistair blushes, embarrassed at how much of a fool he’s being in front of a stranger. The girl was young, seventeen, eighteen years old. (Like Ryleigh, he noted.) She had her hair tied up in a bun, looking almost silver if Alistair didn't realize it was just a very light blonde. And she had the greenest eyes he had ever seen, almost unnatural honestly. They reminded him of the Rift.

 

He paused. The Rift? What was he talking about, what was he even saying? He cleared his thoughts, and looked past the girl, into the shop. It was a small cozy place, with flowers everywhere, bursting with color and demanding his attention.

"Looking for anything specific?" the girl asks, as her eyes follow Alistair's gaze and she looks back into the shop as well, "We have many different kinds of flowers. We just got a new shipment too so most things are pretty fresh!"

"What is this place called?" he asks, and she beams at him, her smile so happy Alistair thought it could light up the place.

"Alpha Flowers!" she says happily, "My friend Alpha, you just saw them, and I own the place... we work together! They arrange most of the flowers, and I deal with customers."

"How old is Alpha?" Alistair asks.

"They turned twenty this year! They dropped out of high school to save up money to buy us a place to live. Our flat is just above the shop!"

"Were you two orphans?"

She nods, a small smile on her face as she says, "Alpha was always an orphan. I lost my parents a few years ago."

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean..."

 

She smiles brightly once more, shaking her head, "It's okay! It happened a long time ago anyways. Now, I'm happy, since I have Alpha and all my friends to help me. Plus, I'm going to the University nearby! Alpha told me that they want me to do what they didn't, and they're helping me pay for my classes and everything!"

"He--"

"They," she corrects, "They're nonbinary. They asked me to correct and inform others of that, because it makes it easier to figure out which customers are good, and who are the nasty rude people."

"Oh, sorry. Didn't know."

"It's okay! They prefer to look masculine anyways, and they don't expect everyone to figure out they're nonbinary. They don't mind being misgendered at first, it happens, but please respect their pronouns from now on."

"Will do," Alistair clears his throat, "But they sound like a commendable young individual. I wish I had a friend like that."

"We're stuck to the hip! There's no Alpha without Elavi!"

 

He blinks.

"Elavi?" he asks, hoping he didn't mishear. She nods, and he says, "Your name is Elavi?"

"Yes? Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't introduce myself! I'm Elavi Lavellan, pleasure!"

She holds her hand out, and Alistair takes it, shaking it before letting go. He feels light headed though, and wonders if another flashback will intrude his thoughts. He tries to keep steady, and takes slow, deep breaths.

"I'm Alistair Therin," he says, "Uh, he and him pronouns please."

"My pronouns are she and her! And it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Therin!"

"Please, just Alistair or even Ali," he says, "Mr. Therin was my father."

"Alright, Alistair! I'll remember that!"

He thanks her, before looking back into the shop.

"Actually," he says, "Do you have roses?"

"We do! What color?"

"Red. Just need a few."

 

She heads back into the store, and he follows, examining the various flowers within. They all look beautiful and smell wonderful, the flowers felt so alive. It was obvious they were well taken care of.

"How many would you like?" Elavi asks, and he turns to see her picking some out of a tub. She's very careful with each one, delicately putting them in a small bundle.

"Uh... a dozen?" he says, and she nods. He continues to watch her, and once she accumulated a dozen, she stands up and heads to the counter. There, she begins to create a small bouquet, tying it with a blue ribbon. 

"It'll be twelve ninety nine," she says. and Alistair digs out some cash. As he hands it to her, he notices the kid from before, Alpha, emerge from the back. They look at Alistair, then to Elavi, and then back to Alistair.

"Er, hello," Alistair says, "You're Alpha, right?"

They nod, and cross their arms as they say, "Thanks for buying our flowers."

"They're very pretty," Alistair says, "I can tell they're well taken care of."

"All Elavi," Alpha has a proud gleam in their eyes, "She's a flower whisperer. Loves each one. Never seen ‘em die under her care."

"They each have their own needs, and I just make sure they're taken care of," Elavi tuts, before looking to Alistair with a big ol' smile, "Hope you enjoy the flowers, Alistair. Are they for someone?"

He looks down at the flowers, and smiles softly. "For someone special, yeah."

 

"I'm sure they'll love it," Alpha says, "Elavi took special care of those flowers. They're filled with the love from her and ready to share it all for you."

"Alpha!" Elavi blushes a bit, pouting, "You're embarrassing me. I just do my job, nothing more."

They grin, and head back to where they once were. Alistair chuckles.

"You two really are joined to the hip," he says, and she giggles, grinning brightly.

"Yup! Always been, always will be."

He smiles fondly at her, but when she opens her mouth to speak once more, no sound comes out. He blinks, confused, before he hears that deafening static, his vision blurry. Immediately, as if someone flipped the channel when he blinks, he finds himself staring at Ryleigh talking to someone, giggling. She soon begins to listen attentively to the other though, as static hisses in Alistair's ears, blocking out their conversation. Just as he’s about to pass out from the deafening pain, he's able to hear the conversation.

 

_ " _ _... I was trying to to say something nice to you, wasn't I?" the blurry figure said, "Oh, forgive me. My mind wanders so. It's just that I... I feel so comfortable talking to you, like I could say anything and you wouldn't judge me." _

_ "Well, we are friends, aren't we?" Ryleigh stated matter of factly. _

_ "Yes! Very much so," the blurry figure shimmered, and a form was able to be defined as it continued speaking, "I haven't felt this close to anyone in a long time. I really enjoy your company." _

_ Ryleigh beamed up at the figure, "You are a treasured friend, Leliana." _

_ The blur went away, and there stood Leliana, looking at Ryleigh with an adoration that made Alistair feel a twinge of jealousy. He felt unsure as to why. She then looked to Alistair, only for a second, and there was that same jealousy he felt towards her in her eyes, and he felt... _

 

"Alistair?"

  
He feels guilty.

 

"Alistair!"

He blinks, and before him stands Elavi, confused and concerned.

"Oh, sorry, spaced out for a bit there, didn't I," he says hastily, "What were you saying?"

"I was just saying I hope you have a good day... are you alright?"

"Fine! Just remembered some errands I had to do, so sorry. I’m not the most organized man."

She smiles, a humorous gleam in her eyes as she says, "Alright! Then you better hurry along now! Don’t forget nothing now, make sure you end the day on a good note!! I hope you stop by again, Alistair!"

He nods, and flowers in tow, he says his goodbyes and hurries on out. Once he’s a fair amount of ways away from the store, he can’t help but smile with joy. He remembered Leliana, he remembered her!! This was progress, good progress. He couldn't wait to tell the others, to ask if Leliana remembered him as well. When he remembered Morrigan, she had remembered him, so he hoped this time would be the same as well.

He turns the corner, speeding down to his apartment, careful not to damage the flowers. His heart is thumping loudly in his chest, he feel so excited to share this news. Suddenly, Leliana's eyes flash in his mind, and he comes to a quick halt, staring down at the flowers. 

 

Did... he had to have imagined it, right? There was no way she would give him such a nasty look, he remembered them being good friends. There must have been a misunderstanding, he must have been overthinking it. Plus, the jealousy he felt must have been just him being dumb, being some stupid guy overthinking her intentions. She was Ryleigh’s best friend he remembered how close they were and how Ryleigh told Leliana everything.

... She told Leliana secrets, whispers of words that would never reach Alistair’s ears.

Shaking the thought away, he continues down his way, though the excitement from before is somewhat diminished. He tries to hype himself again though, and thinks positive thoughts, thoughts about Ryleigh again, just like before. Her smile was just like Elavi’s, bright and able to light up a room. She was a ray of sunshine during dark times. He loved her. 

He still felt tense, but it was working. He rounds another corner, only this time, someone bumps right into him. He stumbles backwards, but luckily doesn't lose his footing. The roses remain undisturbed in his arms, still in the same beautiful condition they were when he got them.

 

"Woah!" he says, trying to make fun of the light bump, "Sorry about that, I didn’t see you there. Hope I didn’t knock your--"

"Alistair?" 

He now realizes he’s looking at Leliana, who’s out of breath, hair sticking to her face as sweat and tears run down her face. When she realizes it’s him, she takes a shaky breath in, and tears swell in her eyes. 

"Leliana!” Alistair almost drops the flowers, but just approaches the woman, close enough to provide support if needed, but far enough for her to have space, “What happened? Are you okay? Why are you--"

"Oh Alistair," she cries out, fat tears rolling down her eyes, "I... I remembered her. And I remembered you, I remembered the both of you and..."

She shakes her head as she looks down, body trembling as the tears make their way to the ground. A sense of dread fills Alistair.

"We... we let her down," she sobs out, "Oh Alistair, we... we..."

Alistair's heart sinks, and he feels his throat tighten.

"We failed her. We hurt her," Leliana looks up at him, "All of us."

 

Morrigan's words echo in his mind.

_ "Those visions are just there to taunt us, to remind us of how we..." _

"We let her  _ die _ , Alistair."

 

The roses feel heavy in his hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys!! thanks for reading chapter three of the fic!!!! it makes me so happy you guys read this far, thank you so so much!!! also, disclaimer, i actually love morrigan but we're kinda antagonizing her for now, but i promise you she has a pretty wicked arc later on!!! (at least i think so) and oooh boy the drama!!! so much excitement!!!
> 
> i hope you continue to support the series!!! please leave a kudos or comment, or even send me a message on tumblr!!! thank you!!! <33
> 
> (contact me at oceanicmars.tumblr.com!!)


	4. To Experience Rain for the First Time

He doesn’t remember when or how he convinced himself he wasn’t guilty. That whatever he had done to Ryleigh wasn’t so bad. Sure, there was always that deep, twisted feeling whenever he tried to remember more of the journey haunting him, and yet, he continued to believe everything was alright. After all, all this time, he believed he had only wronged Ryleigh in some stupid manner; perhaps there had been a misunderstanding on his end and he hurt her, or maybe he broke his promise, leaving her side, or maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t done a thing and was overthinking it, per usual.

Not once did he ever expect to hear he let her die.

 

"We let..." his lips tremble as he struggles to get the words out, "We let her die?"

Leliana nods her head frantically, her sobs echoing in his ears as she wipes her eyes with her hands. Despite her efforts, the tears don't disappear, only increasing as they roll down her red, irritated cheeks. She clears her throat once, twice, before managing to say, "I'm so... so sorry."

"What happened?" Alistair asks, stunned by the revelation.

"I was walking to Zevran's bar, when... when I thought I saw someone familiar. And the next thing I know--" she hiccups, "-- I remembered everything. The journey, you, and... and...!" but she breaks down into sobs once more, like a little girl, wailing in agony.

"You remembered Ryleigh," Alistair breathes out, "You remember her and... that...."

It was hard admitting that someone you loved was killed by your own hands.

"How... how could we let her die?!" Leliana's face is twisted in pain as she speaks through her tears, "What happened? I don't remember anything but mourning her, I don't understand... How did we..."

"I don't know. I don't know anything. I didn't even know she died because of... because of us..."

_ Because of you _ , a harsh whisper bit into his heart.

 

"What should we do?" Leliana asks, "Do we tell Zevran, do we--"

He holds his hand up, and she silences herself. He takes a deep breath, and lets all the air out from his lungs. They had to remain calm and slowly work at this. He only knew one thing at this point in time, and one thing only.

"We have to find Morrigan. I'm going to force her to tell us what she knows."

* * *

 

The decide to meet at the University in thirty minutes, giving them time to collect their composure and for Alistair to drop off the roses. When he arrives home, he places them gently in a vase, making sure the room temperature wouldn't kill them and that they have enough water. Most are still in perfect condition, only some somewhat wilting from him clutching onto them so tightly. He tries to help one straighten up, but it just droops back down, limp and sad.

… What just happened?

He can’t feel a thing, the shock must be numbing him. He just never once expected to hear Ryleigh had died... that they had let her die. It's not something you want to hear, nor admit anyway. 

Shaking his thoughts away, he takes a deep breath, and breathes all the air out of his lungs. No time to fret or feel sad for himself. If he wants to learn the truth, if he wants to know why they let Ryleigh die, he needs answers, and he needs them now. 

 

So with that determination fueling him, he leaves his little apartment, and heads to the park by the university. When he arrives, he finds Leliana sat down on a park bench, head down. He watches her, and see her clutch her necklace, which he soon realizes to be a cross, as she prays in silence. 

She hasn't changed in her religious beliefs it seems. Devoted to God... she always believed in a larger force. It was why she first joined them, after all. 

He remembered her approaching them with excitement as she told them of her dream, her vision, and how Ryleigh got just as excited, even if he and the others were questioning it all. But Ryleigh never once questioned it. She accepted Leliana, cherished her as a friend...

Leliana's jealous eyes flash in his mind again, and he wonders what secrets she had kept with Ryleigh, what they whispered to one another in hushed breaths.

As he ponders that question, Leliana looks up, noticing him and waving him over. He walks over, and she gets up, motioning to follow, and they head down to the university in a suffocating silence.

Questions both want to ask, words that should be spoken, yet everything remaining trapped in their throats, drowning in the bile that began to rise.

 

The university is the only place Alistair thought to look for Morrigan, and he hopes to God she would be there. He hopes she would be able to answer their questions, that she could help bring peace to them.

He ignores the whispers in his head that told him otherwise.

 

When they arrive at the front doors, Leliana stares up at the grand building, coming to a full stop in her tracks. Alistair turns to watch her for a bit, concerned, only to realize she was mumbling something.

"You all right?" he asks, unsure if he should really interrupt her or not. She looks back down at him, a bit startled as if she forgot he were here, but soon smiles sadly and looks back up at the building .

"It reminds me of Skyhold," she murmurs, "Back when I was serving the Inquisition."

"Y'know, Morrigan mentioned something about that. I don't remember much... well, I don't really know anything."

"If you did I would be surprised. We only met once during that time. Elavi came to give you a formal apology after we conscripted the Templars. We... we barely talked to one another, now that I think about it."

"... I'm sorry, I don't remember."

She laughs, and says, "It's fine. I think you'll remember eventually."

"So, what, do you remember everything?"

She frowns, shaking her head no. "I remember the beginning of our journey, but towards the end it's very unclear. I don't know what really occurred, but it was painful, sometimes heartwarming... and then I remember standing before Ryleigh's grave, just crying for hours. After that, it was a blur, time passed so quickly, until eventually I worked with the Inquisition."

"Who do you remember?"

"Almost everyone at this point, why?"

He huffs, a bit frustrated and very envious. "I only remember Ryleigh, Morrigan and you. There's bits and pieces of the journey but... I feel like compared to you and Morrigan, I know absolutely nothing."

"I wonder why that is... everything hit me like a freight train when I remembered."

Alistair shrugs, pouting, and Leliana just chuckles at his face.

"I'm sure you'll remember," she says, her smile wavering as she walks into the building, "You have to. For Ryleigh."

Her words left Alistair to once again wonder what secrets the two shared.

 

He enters the building, and rushes to catch up to Leliana, who looked around in awe, clearly a bit mesmerized.

"You know, I'm surprised Morrigan chose a university of all places to work at," she says, "Knowing her, I was certain she'd stay away from others... But this makes sense, in an odd way of course."

"Right? I thought the same thing. She's such a nasty witch, you'd think she'd hide in the woods or something."

"Well, I'm sure the kids here..." Leliana's voice trails off, and she stares down a hallway with wide eyes. Alistair follows her line of sight, and see's a familiar silver haired girl walking down towards them, talking to two other people around her age.

"Oh! That's--" he begins to say when Leliana goes, "Elavi! She's here too!"

He grins a bit at her enthusiasm, but places a hand on her shoulder, pulling her towards him and whispering, "She doesn't remember anything I think. She didn't know who I was, and it doesn't seem she remembers Morrigan like we do."

"That doesn't matter," she tuts, looking quite relieved as she smiles fondly at the girl, "She looks so happy... And I think those are her friends she left behind when she joined... Oh, I feel so much better she's okay."

 

"... Who is she, anyways? Morrigan only said she led the Inquisition, and that she was like Ryleigh..."

"... I think Elavi is what Ryleigh would've become if she had the time to mature," Leliana says wistfully, "Determined to do the right thing no matter what, eager to help and a loving, forgiving girl. She actually scared me at the beginning, I honestly thought Ryleigh had come back."

Alistair watches Leliana wring her hands together, frowning as she furrows her brows.

"I was scared she'd... I thought she'd end up like Ryleigh," she finally murmurs, "Become angry and bitter, since we forced her to be the Inquisitor, forced her to be our leader since we were so desperate and she was our only hope to seal the rifts... Yet she prevailed and showed everyone she could do it. She proved them wrong. She was a powerful, strong, caring leader. And yet..."

Leliana bites her bottom lip, as tears swell in her eyes, "I... She lost so much. More than we ever thought. Oh, thank God she's okay. She doesn't look as stressed as I remember, she has her arm right? Yes, I see two arms, good... she's okay. She's okay."

Alistair tilts his head at her words, perplexed as he asks, "Pardon me-- no memories as you know but uh, she lost an arm?"

"There was a powerful magic forced onto the arm, allowing her to seal the rifts that threatened our world... but as time passed it grew unstable and slowly, painfully, it began to kill her. It was torture to watch and be unable to help. After a series of events it was cut off but... the damage had been done. She wasn't the same Elavi, even if she tried to act as if she were fine. I heard it was difficult for her to adjust to one arm. Cullen would write to me of her struggles, and I could only pray for her."

"And Cullen is...?"

"Her lover," she says with a warm smile on her face, wiping the tears that hung in the corner of her eyes, "Husband, actually, in that life they married in secret... Oh, you should've seen how angry we all were! We forced them to have a proper wedding, so we could all celebrate. It was lovely, quite sweet really. I was happy I could attend."

"Huh... I wonder if he's here now."

"I do hope so. There was no Cullen without Elavi, and vice versa. The two fell in love immediately, we could all see it, and yet it took them forever to realize it. So, so cute. They were hilarious to watch at times, dancing around like a couple of teenagers... like you and Ryleigh, actually. They were just... they were just so awkward and very much in love."

"Ha, well, I hope she finds him. Even if they don't remember one another like we do... That, or I hope she finds that kind of love again, or even finds a guy like him just in case he isn't here. She's a sweet kid. I'm glad this Cullen guy treated her right."

 

"You know, Cullen once had a crush on Ryleigh."

"Same... wait, what?"

Leliana laughs, a bit too overjoyed at his response, as she says, "He was in the same tower as her, apparently smitten with how she held herself together and how strong willed she was. But once the tower fell... he changed. There was a deep hatred for the world that caused him to become a nasty, bitter person. If it wasn't for Hawke, as well as Elavi, heck, the Inquisition, who knows how he would've ended up... or where."

"Who's-- y'know what, nevermind, we should just find Morrigan."

"Already on it," Leliana says, and before he can ask what she means, she approaches Elavi and her friends. 

 

"Pardon me," she begins, and Alistair watches Elavi's two friends begin to whisper to one another, Elavi giving her full attention to the red head, "Do you know where I can find Morrigan?"

"Professor Morrigan?" Elavi asks, before her eyes meet with Alistair's, and she lights up like a Christmas tree, "Oh!! Hello Alistair! What a coincidence! I had to come back to campus to study for my next class, wow! Who would've thought we would see each other again so soon!"

"Uh, hey there," he says, smiling awkwardly, a bit happy but embarrassed she remembered him so enthusiastically, "Or uh, crazy, huh? Didn't expect to see you so soon either... erm, I'm just trying to find Morrigan really, got something I need to talk to her about."

"In that case, head down this hall, and make a right, and then four doors down, her office is right there, left hand side. She's currently prepping for her next class, so she'll be available for the next few hours."

"Thank you dear," Leliana says, as she heads down, smiling happily. Just as Alistair begins to follow, Elavi grabs his wrist, pulling him backwards with a coy grin on her face.

"Is that who the roses were for?" she asks, "She's very pretty... she's on T.V, right? Atisha, uh, my friend, she said--"

"No, oh gosh no," Alistair blurt out to cut her off, blushing for some reason, "We're long time friends, both just looking for a... another long time friend."

"Oh! Well, pardon me for that," Elavi says, giggling at his dismay, "Did the one you actually give the roses to like them?"

Ryleigh's soft smile as she looked down at the single rose he gave her long ago flashes in his mind, and he tries his best to smile happily as he says, "She loved them."

Elavi's smile made up for the guilt he felt.  
  
  
Parting ways, he rushes down to catch up to Leliana, and finds her standing before the closed door leading to Morrigan's office. Alistair hesitates though when he sees the solemn look on her face.

"You alright?" he asks after a minute, to which Leliana nods. He frowns though, not quite believing her as he then asks, "You sure?"

"... No," she whispers, looking at him, "I'm scared. If she really knows what happened, then we... we'll learn all about Ryleigh's demise. About her death. About what happened... I'm not sure I'm ready."

Alistair can’t really say anything to that. He isn’t sure if he even wants to know. In fact he'd be perfectly content living ignorant of Ryleigh's fall.

"We have to, though," he tells himself rather than to her, and clears his throat to say, "We need to learn and know what we did so we can fix our mistakes. This isn't for us, it's for her."

Leliana's small nod allows Alistair to open the door with more confidence than he felt.   


 

Inside, Morrigan looks up, glasses sitting neatly on her face, hiding the cold eyes that glare at them. Alistair glares back, not letting her intimidate him now.

"Why are you here," Morrigan asks, "Who told you where to find me? I'm busy."

"We need answers, Morrigan. You're gonna tell me what you know about Ryleigh, about what really happened."

"Whatever do you mean," she asks with a smirk, "I know as much as you do--"

"Why did Ryleigh die?" Leliana blurts out, fists clenched tightly, "What happened to her?!"

Morrigan's smirk flat lines, and she watches the two, eyes gleaming in the light. Alistair stares back, trying to figure out what secrets the woman holds. Unlike the whispers between Leliana and Ryleigh, he knew her secrets were ones that even Ryleigh never knew of.

 

"I do not know," Morrigan finally says, to which Alistair barks out, "Bullshit!!"

The woman stands up, taking her glasses off and placing them on the table before walking over to the two. Leliana takes a small step back, but Alistair won't budge.

"If I knew," she begins, arms crossed, "Why do I have to tell the both of you? How would it benefit me?"

"Because we all knew her," Alistair growls, "and we were all there when she died. If there's a chance to learn what happened, I want to learn, even if it's a painful, ugly truth. There must be some part in that fucking black heart of yours that at least sympathizes with that!"

A shadow falls on her face, and she tilts her head.

"I do not know anything," she says, "It is all a blur, and if I try to recall I only remember..." 

She hesitates, looking to the side, before looking back to them.

"I remember only of her grave."

"Stop hiding shit from us," Alistair hisses through clenched teeth, "What do you really remember?!"

"... This is not the place to talk about this," Morrigan states, as she grabs her purse and some keys off the table, "I want to go somewhere else."

"You bitch!" Alistair shouts, only for Leliana to place a hand on his chest to hold her back, "Just fucking tell us, stop dancing around it and avoiding the question!"

"You making a scene is that last thing we want," Morrigan snaps at him, "I do not need to be school gossip, and you do not want to be thrown out by security. We should relocate."

Alistair isn't happy about it, but in the end, she's right. His emotions are getting the better of him, relocating would be a good idea... Damn it.

 

"We can go to the bar," Leliana says, "Zevran's out meeting with some friends tonight. He won't be home until later."

Alistair nods, and Leliana observes his face for a moment before releasing him. Morrigan smirks, though she's clearly irritated, and walks out the door.

"Fuckin bitch," Alistair mutters under his breath. Leliana just sighs, shaking her head, before rushing out to lead the way. Alistair takes a moment, remembering why he was doing this, and follows.

For Ryleigh.

* * *

 

Just as they head inside the bar, rain begins to fall. Morrigan and Leliana rush in, but Alistair takes a moment to watch the rain, a bittersweet emotion filling him as he closes his eyes.

 

_ When he opened them, Ryleigh stood in the middle of the dirt road, beaming up at the sky with her eyes closed, the rain dancing on her skin. Though the sky was dark and grey, she made the scene look mystical. _

_ "You'll get a cold if you stay out there for too long!" Leliana called, laughing as she sat beneath a large tree, shielding her, Alistair, and another person from the rain. Ryleigh's smile only becomes bigger, as she took a deep breath in, and raised her hands high the sky, mesmerized. _

_ "Let her enjoy it," the blurred figure beside them said, "It is her first rain, no?" _

_ "The poor thing... she's never been in the rain, has she," Leliana murmured to herself, "At least... at least she now gets to have this. She'll never have to be cooped up in some tower again." _

 

_ Alistair pondered on those words as he watched Ryleigh. Her overall demeanor, the childish joy written all over her face, it was pitiful if anything. But this moment was hers, and she was living it with the excitement that had been robbed of her years ago. So he grinned, a devious plan already formulated in his mind, and called to Ryleigh, "Having fun over there?" _

_ She laughed happily, her hands falling back down to her sides as she breathed out, "It's wonderful, I always wanted to stand underneath the rain. It's so refreshing, so much more than I could've anticipated! I love it… I’ve never been able to do this. It’s a wonderful experience." _

_ "I know what'll really heighten this experience!" Alistair teased, and when Ryleigh looked to him, curious, he charged, scooping her up in his arms and spinning her around. She squealed like a little girl, laughing as she held onto him tightly until he became dizzy and fell backwards, mud splashing up and coating the two of them. But they laughed, and Alistair realized he enjoyed holding her safe in his arms. _

_ "Are you alright?" Ryleigh asked as the laughter died down, and she wiped away some of the mud on his face, "You took quite the tumble!" _

_ "Eh, your dog has done worse," he said with a grin, "Now wasn't that fun?" _

_ She grins, and nods happily as the world begins to blur.   _

 

When he blinks, he's back in front of the bar. Instinctively, he puts a hand out to feel the rain, but unlike how they danced on Ryleigh's skin, they just plopped onto his, slowly running down his hand and onto the ground. Unimpressive, much like him.

It was just rain. But that day, for Ryleigh, it was her first rain. What life... what kind of life did she live that she had never experienced rain? What wasn't he remembering about her?

"Alistair?" he hears Leliana call, and heads inside, shutting the door behind him. Inside, the two girls were sitting at one of the tables, watching him as he took a seat. 

 

"So?" he begins, "Are you going to tell us, or give more cryptic bullshit."

"I do not know what caused you to believe I hold all the answers," Morrigan says, "I probably know as much as you do."

"Then what do you know? What did you avoid telling us earlier?"

She stares at Alistair, looking baffled now. He's confused.

"Do you truly not know?" she asks, and when he shakes his head, she looks to Leliana, "Here I thought he was joking… I hope you of all people know at the very least then."

"I only know Ryleigh died," Leliana says, "She died and I couldn't save her."

"... Well then. I had not expected the both of you to remember so little...”

Morrigan remains quiet. Alistair begins to feel irritated again, but soon the woman clears her throat and leans back into the chair.

 

“... We had a... falling out," Morrigan finally reluctantly says, "All of us. We fought with Ryleigh, as well as with one another. I eventually left the group. When I came back, the girl was dead."

"We fought?" Alistair asks, even though it felt obvious to him, "Why? What... what happened?"

"As I said, I barely know. Ryleigh and I... I remember fighting with her; her absolute nonsense was becoming intolerable, even for me, that I could not take the stupid girl anymore and left. And then, I found myself before her grave."

“That can’t be all you remember,” Alistair says, “You must know something else.”

“I do not, I only remember the fights. If I knew more I would tell you.”

“I find it hard to believe when you avoided this question so many times.”

“I truly thought you remembered the fights as well, and just wanted to make me feel bad for leaving the group,” Morrigan crosses her arms, “At the very least, I am perfectly content knowing I didn’t break  the poor girl’s heart.”

 

“What?” Alistair's heart twists at his own bafflement, as if deep down, he knew, but continued to deny it. But he's still confused and has to learn, so he says, “No, hold on, explain.”

“Do you not remember that either? Did Leliana not tell you?”

He looks to the woman in question. She’s looking down, fiddling with her thumbs, biting her bottom lip. She knew. She knew what Alistair felt he should've known as well.

“She…" he hesitates, before saying in a more confident tone, "She just remembered everything, I don’t expect her to--”

“Such a large event that affected her life, and she hesitates? I highly doubt it.”

“You don’t have to speak for me,” Leliana snaps, glaring at her, “I just remembered it all. I didn’t have the time nor the energy to tell Alistair.”

Morrigan scoffs, a cold sneer on her face as she says, “Now you refuse to share with everyone your hatred towards him? How uncharacteristic of you.”

“I barely know him! I just remembered who he truly is, he doesn’t deserve the hatred from a past life!”

Her jealous eyes flash in his mind. He suddenly feels light headed and holds his head in his hands, using the table for support. When he looks up, the scene is different as he sits by the campfire, staring up at Leliana.

 

_ "Why don't you talk to her?" she snaped at him, clearly disgusted that he only watched Ryleigh, refusing, no, avoiding having to talk to her. _

_ "She doesn't want to talk to me," he snapped back, avoiding eye contact. Leliana scoffed. _

_ "Do not lie to me Alistair!" she snarled, clenching her fists, "Do something! She won’t listen to me, she won’t talk to me!" _

_ "Well what do you want me to do?!" he asked in a harsh tone, "What should I do when she's refusing everything from everyone?!" _

_ “ _ **_You_ ** _ are supposed to be there for her!  _ **_You_ ** _ are the only one who could fully understand the burden she carries! You are her  _ **_lover_ ** _ , for Andrase's sake! At least try to comfort her!” _

_ "I'm trying!" _

_ "Try harder!" _ __  
__  


_ Alistair opened his mouth to respond, but he instead only gaped for a few seconds before he looked away. What could he say? She was right, after all. _

_ Leliana's voice cracked into a plea, “She's dying, Alistair. Help her! Please.” _

_ Alistair refuses to meet Leliana’s eye. He can’t. _

_ "She's dying, Alistair!!" Leliana cried out, "She's dying." _

_ Alistair only stared to the side. After all, everything she was saying, everything she was yelling at him for? _

 

_ He already knew. _

 

When he opens his eyes once more, Leliana looks at him in a mix of fear and worry, as if she too relived the events that Alistair witnessed. But he just looks to the side, now knowing what truly lies behind her eyes, what secrets she harbored once long ago.

“I wasn’t… I never was a good partner for Rye, was I,” he murmurs, more to himself than anything, “I was just as inexperienced as she was. We weren’t… It wasn’t a good match.”

“Alistair--” Leliana begins, but he cuts her off by holding his hand up.

“You loved her, and showed it every moment you could. You did more than me. You had every right to hate me, hell, I would hate myself if I knew what an absolute ass I was being. And yet, here we are. I’m sorry, Leliana. I'm sorry I don't remember it either, that... that I'm apologizing for something I don't even remember.”

He can’t breathe. The air is heavy, and he feels as if with each breath, bile crawled its way up his throat. So he just sits there, feeling that guilt and dread he’s kept suppressed for so long. He had known, deep down, but lived in denial for too long.

 

“... If we are done here,” Morrigan breathes out, “As much as I enjoy you dragging yourself through your own pity, I have to go. I have a class to teach.”

“Sure, that’s… go ahead, I’ll let you out,” Leliana says, as she stands up, “Thank you, for uhm... for coming today. Could you stop by again? I… I would like to chat with you. I have some questions and... yeah.”

“As I told Alistair, I have no interest in aiding you,” Morrigan murmurs, but sighs, “But, I too am interested in learning about the girl. Give me a date, and I will try to be here.”

As they share contact information, Alistair stares at his reflection in the table.

 

All of those memories with him and Ryleigh, all of the moments they shared, were they all for naught? Why did he break up with her? Why did he shun her, why did he end up avoiding her?

What happened? 

More importantly… what happened to Ryleigh? What had changed her in a way that made Alistair feel so inferior, so unsure of the world, and what made him feel so… so, so heartbroken?

He felt like he knew the answers already. As if they were on the tip of his tongue. But it slipped him every time he felt close, he never could remember.

His apology to Leliana... it was shallow of him if anything.

 

"Alistair," he hears, and looks up to meet Morrigan's eyes, "Your phone number."

"What?"

"Were you not paying attention?" she coldly tuts, "Leliana and I are sharing phone numbers, so I decided to add you as well, seeing as how I have no choice in whether or not I see you from now on."

"Oh, uhm," he takes out a pen and writes it down on the napkin, "Here."

She turns her nose at the sheet, but takes it anyways.

"... Could I have yours too, please," he asks, a bit annoyed with how she treats him. No, that's a lie, he's always ticked the fuck off with her treatment.

"No."

"But--"

"If I need to, I will contact you. I do not want you contacting me."

"C'mon--"

"No, Alistair."

He gives up.

 

Morrigan snickers, before taking her leave she watches Leliana walk with her to the door, handing her an umbrella he assumes is hers seeing how dainty it was, and sent her off with a wave before shutting it slowly. Her darkened face speaks volumes.

"Hey," he begins, but isn't sure why, "Leliana, I uhm... I..."

"I didn't want to tell you," he hears her say, "Curse that woman. It's not fair to you."

"I mean... I would've remembered eventually," he chuckles, "Better now than never."

"But you don't remember! You barely remember a thing, it means nothing if you--!!"

She flinches at her own words, and looks to the side, bottom lip trembling. 

"I know," he murmurs, "It's fine. You're right."

A small sob escapes her lips. He sighs, and writes his phone number down on another napkin, before placing it on the bar counter.

 

"Hey, uhm," he doesn't really know what to say, "Look... I'm gonna head on out. I left my phone number here for you and Zev, and uh, I dunno, text me so I can save your numbers? If you need me... just let me know."

He heads on over to the door, Leliana moving out of the way for him. When he begins to open the door though, she grabs his sleeve, and says, "The rain..."

He looks outside, the rain still falling. He can only grin at the sight, before looking down at Leliana. She's clearly confused, possibly somewhat annoyed as well. He only chuckles at her expression.

"What?" she asks, looking outside, before looking at him, "What is it?"

"Well," he looks outside, smiling fondly, "I was just wondering what it would be like to experience rain for the first time again. To spin around and bask in it like it was some amazing gift from God."

"What do you--"   
  


He rushes out, ignoring her protest as she calls after him, and smiles triumphantly as he jumps into a fairly large puddle. The water splashes up and hits his face, to which he laughs at, but it's hard to breathe, his chest heavier and heavier with each droplet hitting his face. It comes to a point where he's standing there, trying to relive that memory, staring up at the murky, grey sky, his breathing shaky and pathetic with each intake.

When he finally hears Ryleigh's laughter, he can't help but wonder; with the water from the rain and the puddle rolling down his face, which ones belonged to the earth, and which ones were his own?   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so, so sorry this took forever to update. im not the best at staying on top of things. but chapter four! it answers some things, but creates more questions. our lovely gang has it rough. thank you guys so much for the kudos, comments, and bookmarks!! it makes this feel much more fun for me <3
> 
> please continue to support the series!!! and please leave a kudos or comment, or even send me a message on tumblr!!! thank you again loves!!! <33
> 
> (contact me at oceanicmars.tumblr.com!!)


	5. The Sick Man's Lament

He didn't take an umbrella, having disregarded Leliana's concerns, and walked home slowly as the rain fell heavier and heavier. The once grey sky had now turned black, thundering rumbling in the distance, threatening the world with its power. He should hurry home, especially since many people stared at him oddly as they rushed by under the safety of their umbrellas. But his feet continued to drag, as if held down to the street. 

The worst part of it all? He couldn't even feel the raindrops on his skin.

 

"Excuse me," he hears, and turns to face a young boy, no older than four or five perhaps, with shining gold eyes and raven black hair, "Do you want my umbrella?"

It's a small little thing, with frogs on the fabric, jumping along to the side. It could never fit someone as big as Alistair underneath. So he only chuckles, and squats down to talk face to face with the child.

"I'm good, but thank you," he says, "Where's your parents? It's getting dark out, you should run along home."

"My home is here!" the child says, pointing to an building on the other side of the road. Alistair looks at it, wondering how he never noticed it before. It’s tall, very fancy looking, more of a hotel than an apartment. But, he knew better to judge, so he once again faces the boy.

"Okay... but where are your parents?"

The child stares up at him, confused. Alistair sighs. Right.

"Where's your mommy and daddy?"

"Oh! Mama's working! She comes home when the moon comes out."

"And your dad?"

"Home!"

He sighs in relief, worries flying away with his breath. He'd be a worried mess if the kid was home alone.

"Well, in any case, head on home alright?" Alistair points to the sky, "It's super dark, and not safe for kids. Don't want you to get hurt now."

"But there's no moon."

"What?"

"The moon can't come out!"

He looks up, flinching a bit when the large droplets slam into his eyes. He then looks back down at the kid, who looks like he's about to cry as he too stares up. Well, shit.

 

"Uhm, well," Alistair isn't really in the right mindset to deal with this, "I'm... I'm sure it will come out? It's only raining."

"But mama comes home when the moon is up! She needs the moon to come home!"

What did these parents do on new moons, shut the blinds so the kid can't see the sky? He can only sigh, trying to think of what to do. 

"She'll be able to find home," he begins, hoping this bullshit plan he came up with just now works, "So you don't have to worry, even if the moon is hiding."

"Can she?"

"Yeah! After all, she has you to come home to, so I'm sure even without the moon she can come home. She loves you a lot, and will use that love to find you."

"I love mama!"

Ah, the innocent simplistic mind children have. He just smiles.

"And I'm sure she loves you too... Were you out here to find her?"

The child nods, and says, "I was gonna save mama if she was lost! I am the brave little man!" 

"I'm sure you are," Alistair says in between his chuckles, "Sure wish I could be as brave as you."

 

The child just stares at Alistair now, but before Alistair can ask what was wrong, the child reaches out and pats his cheek. Alistair's taken aback, not expecting this at all. But, just as suddenly as the child pat his face, he pulls his hand away, grinning.

"There you go!" he says, "Papa does that for me to give me brave! So I gave you some of my brave!"

Alistair stares at the kid, before smiling softly, his heart twisting as tears threaten to spill in the corner of his eyes.

"Thank you."

"You’re welcome!"

"Well, uhm," Alistair has to take a deep breath, and force himself to not cry, "God, I'm pathetic... Hey, brave little man, let's get you home now, alright? I'm sure your mama will be home soon."

"Okay!" the kid says as he grabs Alistair's hand, and guides Alistair down to the building’s entrance. Alistair once again didn't expect this, but he's a bit relieved the kid is holding his hand crossing a street.  When they arrive at the entrance, Alistair's hand is released.

"Thank you mister!" the child says, "I’m gonna tell papa about you!"

"Oh boy, uh, thanks kiddo... Now, don't come outside again. Don't need you to get lost or hurt."

"Mmkay! I got it mister! Here you go!"

The child holds out his umbrella for Alistair. He blinks, before smiling awkwardly, not sure what's happening again.

"I don't need it, but thank you."

"It's okay! You can give it to me later!"

The kid ain't budging. So Alistair sighs, and takes the tiny thing.

"Thank you," he reluctantly says as the child beams.

"Bye bye mister! I hope you find home too!"

 

And with that, the kid runs over and pushes a button for the elevator, waving frantically and happily to Alistair before the bell chimes, and he rushes inside, still waving. When the door closes, he sighs, and looks down at the baby umbrella. Leaving it here would surely cause it to be stolen and he wanted to just give it back to the kid, so he closed it up, held it tightly, and began to head home once more. He’d come by again, not many apartments like this existed in the town after all.

That, and well, what a strange kid... cute, most certainly, but strange. He felt oddly familiar as well, perhaps someone he knew in the past life? He had very prominent raven hair and gold eyes...

He stops in his tracks. He thinks about it. Rationally. Calms himself down and takes a deep breath. Finally, he laughs, and hurries down the road.

 

That idea, out of every single dumb ones he's had, was probably the dumbest of them all.

* * *

 

Tonight must be the night of encounters, because as soon as he crosses a street he hopes is the one leading home, he runs into Duncan, underneath an umbrella as he grabs something from the mailbox. Now Alistair knew he was lost, because Duncan lived in a house nowhere near his apartment. Damnit.

He tries sneaking past his boss. Keyword here is tries. It was a futile attempt in the first place as Duncan turns to face Alistair, clearly startled.

“Alistair?!” he asks in surprise, and the man in question can only chuckle as Duncan follows up with, “You’re soaked! What happened?”

“Long story, I suppose,” Alistair murmurs, “I’m fine sir, I promise--”

“No, you’re coming inside with me. Let’s go now, c’mon.”

“But--”

“No buts, come on now.”

 

And this is how Alistair ends up in Duncan’s home; his boss forcing him to shower, wear the man’s spare change of clothes and drink very warm coffee in the fluffiest blanket Alistair had ever seen. Speaking of Duncan, the man was sitting on the couch adjacent to the one Alistair was on, staring at him intently. Not the best position to be in despite the wonderful treatment he’d been given.

“Sooo…” Alistair began, “I suppose you’re not gonna take a jog gone wrong story.”

“No, but I would admire you somewhat for trying to pull that off,” Duncan said with a sigh, “I gave you a vacation to relax. I highly doubt this is a way to do so.”

“Ha! You’d be surprised, dour weather can do wonders—“

“ _ Alistair.” _

“Riiight… where to begin then.”

“How about you explain what’s been bothering you.”

“A lot, honestly sir.”

“We have plenty of time then, the storm isn’t letting up anytime soon.”

He’s right, Alistair was trapped into a situation that involved  _ feelings.  _ He represses a need to groan loudly and obnoxiously, since out of all people, the one person he didn’t want to worry was Duncan. Not with  _ this,  _ anyways.

 

“I don’t really know how to begin, sir,” Alistair mumbles, holding the cup of coffee tightly to warm his hands, “It’s quite a mess after all. And you promised me drinks, not coffee.”

That earns a small chuckle from the other, and Alistair suppress his grin.

“Well, perhaps as the night goes on I can pull out something to make up for the drinkless talk,” Duncan says, “But I would like to get to the main issue.”

“Ah, yes, well… let’s see then. Shall I start with my birth or—“

“ _ Alistair.” _

“Right. Well…”

He looks down at his coffee, face somehow reflected in the drink. He looked pathetic. Felt even worse, to top it off.

 

“What…” he began, before sighing bitterly, “What if you learned someone you cared about, and cared a lot about I should add, was… was extremely hurt, but you didn’t quite know why?”

Duncan remains quiet, watching Alistair curiously.

“What if,” Alistair begins again, “God, what if you learned that special person was… no, let me rephrase that, what if the person you cared a lot about was someone out of your reach, as in, I can’t contact them cause I don’t know how, but you just… you had to meet them again. To know why they’re hurting.”

Alistair looks at Duncan, who remains silent still. He sighs, and leans back in his chair.

“I just… Well, I just feel so helpless. I remembered someone very important to me, yet I didn’t remember anything at all. I was disillusioned by the past that I didn’t even stop to consider what happened to them. Why she isn’t here. And, the worst thing is, I learned from someone else that I failed her. I… I’m the cause of her pain.”

“Do you know why?”

Alistair shakes his head no, “I have no idea what happened. I’m so confused, and yet I know that I  _ did  _ hurt her. I knew from the beginning but I didn’t know why. Or maybe I did! Always, at the pit of my stomach, I felt it; that uneasy, awful twist that something was wrong. I’m just not sure  _ what  _ was wrong. Yet now I know something  _ is  _ wrong, that I was ignoring the truth, and I can’t even figure out why cause I can’t see her again. Or maybe I can, but I don’t know how.”

“Sounds like quite the mess.”

“Psh, tell me about it! I’ve been feeling all sorts of feelings today. Absolute nightmare, honestly.”

“What’s her name?”

Her laughter chimes in his head. “Ryleigh.”

Duncan hums, looking to the side. “What a familiar sounding name. How peculiar. It’s an everyday name yet I feel nostalgic hearing it.”

Alistair chuckles. It  _ was  _ Duncan who found Ryleigh after all. And just like that, his head felt like someone hit him from behind with a hammer, and he winces.

 

_ "From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden,” Duncan said, both he and Alistair watching as Ryleigh struggled, but to Ali’s relief it is not how ... and … struggled. _

_ So when she fell as well, he hurried over to her, waiting for her to reawaken. Duncan came over as well, and stood beside him, as calm as ever. _

_ When she opened her eyes, blinking once, twice, before focusing on the two, Ali smiled. _

_ “It is finished,” Duncan said, “Welcome.” _

_ Rye began to sit up, obviously a bit disoriented. Ali backed up to give her space. _

_ “Two deaths,” he couldn’t help but murmur, “In my Joining, only one of us died, but it was… horrible. I’m glad you did make it through.” _

_ “How do you feel?” Duncan asked, as Rye brushed the dirt and dust off her robe, and looked at him with a mix of fear and anger. _

_ “I still can’t believe you killed … ,” she murmured. Ali was a bit surprised, since her expression called for muttering, grumbling, or even yelling. And yet, in a small calm voice, she states a troublesome event. It was odd, a bit unsettling if anything. _

_ “... was warned that there was no turning back, as were you all. When he went for his blade he left me no choice. It brought me no pleasure to end his life. The Blight demands sacrifices from us all. Thankfully, you stand here as proof they are not all made in vain.” _

_ Rye just looked down at her hands, and intertwined them, clearly bothered by the event. Ali needed to change the subject. _

 

_ “Did you have dreams?” he asked, “I had terrible dreams after my Joining.” _

_ Before Rye could say a thing, Duncan cut in. _

_ “Such dreams come when you begin to sense the darkspawn, as we all do,” he said, “That and many other things can be explained in the months to come.” _

_ No, Duncan, why couldn’t he see he was just making Rye uncomfortable? Alistair frowned, before remembering the key thing to Joinings. _

_ “Before I forget,” he said, “There is one last part to your Joining. We take some of the blood and put it in a pendant. Something to remind us… of those who didn’t make it this far.” _

_ He handed her the premade pendant, and she took it, holding it carefully in her hands. She looked in awe at it, and Ali couldn’t help but wonder if this was her first keepsake.  _

 

“Alistair?” he hears, ripping him away from the scene and back to reality, “Alistair!”

“Give me a moment…” he grunts, squeezing his eyes shut before taking a deep breath, “oh, yes, okay, it’s gone.”

He looks up to see Duncan hovering over him, one hand on his shoulder, the other waiting in case Alistair fell forwards. He can’t help but feel embarrassed, worrying his boss like this. It was enough he had to talk about his feelings.

“Are you alright?” Duncan asks, and Alistair sighs.

“Fine, peachy, dandy. Just light headed.”

“Is it because you were in the rain, or because of something else?”

Alistair shrugs. But when Duncan gives him the _look_ , Alistair sighs out, “Cause of something else.”

“As I thought. Why are you so insistent on hiding things from me? I am here for you, Alistair.”

He looks away. It was obviously because he didn’t know what was going on either. But also because, well, father figures were a scary thing for Alistair. Yay for childhood abandonment issues.

 

“I’m sorry, Duncan.”

“It’s fine. I will admit thought it is a bit frustrating not knowing what you’re going through, though.”

“I know. I wish I was better.”

“It’s not a matter of being better, Alistair,” Duncan says as he sits beside the man, “You’re dealing with a lot. I can also see that it’s also something only  _ you  _ can truly deal with. But you do not have to shoulder everything by yourself. My only wish is that you didn’t try to burden yourself with this pain alone.”

“But Ryleigh was alone.”

“Is she alone now?”

“I… I don’t know. But I know she was alone. I left her alone, I hurt her—“

“Have you hurt her recently?”

“I…”

“Alistair. You’re worrying over the past.”

“But it’s all I have of her!! I… I don’t have anything but the past to go off on."

Duncan sighs, “We learn from the past. But it does not, and should not dictate the present. It doesn’t affect who you are at this moment, Alistair, nor should it control who you  _ will  _ become."

 

Alistair tries his best to stop the tears from welling up in his eyes, but to no avail. He could only hold in the sobs that wished to be released.

“I’m  _ scared _ , Duncan,” he whispers, “What if she doesn’t care who I am now? What if she only sees… what if she only remembers how I hurt her?”

“Then you apologize. You show her that you learned. And then it’s up to her if she can accept that. If not, then so be it. You both move on for better futures.”

“I loved her, and I hurt her. I don’t know how I could move on from such an awful truth. I don’t know how she will be either. She deserves better than an apology!”

“You should still accept whatever decision she makes.”

“I need to fix what I’ve done!”

“And you will when you can. Tell me, are you going to die soon, Alistair?”

“N-no? Well, I feel like I will.”

Another look. Alistair sighs, “No, I’m not dying.”

“Then you have time. Rather than stress on the need to apologize right away, why not think on  _ how  _ you should apologize.”

He blinks. A small wave of relief washes over him, oddly enough. He leans back in the chair, taking a deep breath in, and releasing it out.

 

“I…” he swallows, “I suppose you’re right. It’s just been… it’s honestly been such a crazy time. So many things, so many truths unveiled…”

“You can always come to me if you wish to talk.”

“I… thanks, Duncan. It means a lot.”

“Always. Now, I do have to ask, why do you possess such a small umbrella?”

Alistair can’t help but laugh at that.

* * *

He’s provided a proper umbrella, though the rain has let up quite a bit, and a bag of some food Duncan had prepared earlier in the night. 

“I will need some more time to recover, and sort things out,” Alistair says, “I hope you understand.”

“The station will be fine without you,” Duncan says, “Take as much time as you need. And if you do find her, I’d like to meet this Ryleigh. I would like to know who has one of my best men so wound up and head over heels for.”

“Ha! And have others drool over her? Maybe when I have her again, or when we’ve agreed to just be friends.”

Duncan chuckles, before sending the lad on his way. With a short wave, Alistair heads on home, heart a bit lighter, mind slightly less cloudy. He feels like he may get a good night’s sleep for once!

 

Doubtful. But one could always dream.

 

It takes him awhile to get home, seeing as how Duncan lived thirty minutes away from the station, which meant there was probably a full hour of walking. And right he was. After a dreadful yet peaceful hour, Alistair is home. He throws his keys on the coffee table, puts the food in the fridge, leaves both umbrellas open out on the veranda, and takes another deep breath in.

The scent of roses fills his lungs. He slowly looks at them, and feels like they’re taunting him somehow. In the back of his mind, whispers and giggles threaten to reveal themselves, but fade once he sighs. No use in mulling over it honestly.

He takes his phone out, and pulled up the news app. Thunderstorms most likely to last tonight and tomorrow night, a teenage girl's road to recovery after suicide attempt, local politics and how you can get involved... normal, everyday headlines. Things that honestly never appeal to Alistair in any way. He sighs once more, heart feeling heavy again despite his lovely heart to heart with Duncan, and takes a seat on the couch.

 

His mind begins to wander.

Was Ryleigh here, in this life? Would she even want to meet them, the ones who failed her and allowed her to die? Did they even have the right to see her again? Would she remember them? Did she wonder whatever became of her friends, or at least, her former friends? Was she angry, or was she confused? What happened in general?

Question, questions, questions. So many questions. Duncan told him not to stress about the past, but, easier said than done. It was honestly consuming him, as unhealthy as it may be. But he needs answers.

Though he remember most of their adventures, details towards the end were fuzzy and hard to figure out. All he knows is that he began to feel hopeless, clueless, and... he felt heartbroken. He couldn't do a thing and it killed him. Just like now, ironically.

He sighs, and thinks of Ryleigh's smile. Her joy at simple things, her cheerful attitude, her determination... he loved her. And he still does

Was that wrong? He was in love with a girl from a past life, someone he'd never met in  _ this _ life. As Morrigan said, there was no telling if she was the same person as before. That, and she may not even want to do anything with Alistair... 

But why? He loved her so much, there was nothing  _ but _ love and adoration for the girl. So what had caused him to leave her side? Why was he so… so...

 

He groans. Thinking of all this is getting him nowhere, only confusing him further. He just... he honestly just wants to see her again. To apologize, to learn what went wrong, to try and fix their relationship. Even if she doesn’t love him the way he did, he just wants to see her and know she was okay. Perhaps it’s selfish of him, but he doesn’t really know at this point. 

He doesn’t even know why he  _ remembers _ her. Why any of them do, for that matter, what had caused all of this to occur? Was it perhaps magic from the other world? Or was it the strong desire to be reunited. Or perhaps, it was just a cruel joke to… to  _ something. _

His head pounds now, and he sighs. Too much thinking, and most certainly too many questions. All he did was further and further confuse himself.   
So he took a deep, deep breath, and relaxes. He continues to do so, each breath deeper than the last, until he drifted off to sleep. 

He has no dreams that night. Nothing to taunt him, to remind him of anything. There is nothing for him, and for some reason, that terrifies him. He wants a dream, a memory, anything but the silence. It is suffocating. Yet, just as quickly as he fell asleep, he wakes up.

 

He feels like shit.

His head is heavy, no, his body is like a goddamn rock. His eyesight blurry, he feels ridiculously cold despite still wearing the very comfy, dry clothes Duncan provided.

He places his hand to his forehead. Burning, scorching hot. And he groans.

_ He’s sick. _

 

He takes his phone out, checking the time. Around ten in the morning. From how ridiculously bright it is, it seems the storm let up sooner than the weather man thought. For now, he wraps himself up on the couch, takes some dayquil after eating the applesauce in his fridge, and tries to focus on the T.V. before him.

Not even twenty minutes pass when he hears a loud ringing noise that absolutely causes him to wince and hate life. He looks at his phone, and sees an unknown number calling him. It’s either one of three people he knows, since he never got  _ their   _ numbers, or a stranger. So he picks up.

“Hello?” he manages out before wanting death.

“Alistair?” Zevran asks, “You sound like you have partaken in some live toads! Are you alright?”

“I wish. No, I’m just sick. What’s up?”

“Sick?! Leliana did tell me you pranced about in the rain the other day… what’s your address?”

“What?”

“What. Is. Your. Address. Quite a simple question, no?”

The way he accentuated each word somewhat ticks Alistair off but he sighs, “I don’t need you to come and get sick too.”

“Nonsense! I never get sick. In fact, I know the proper treatments and foods for a cold! Now, address?”

“It’s really not necessary—“

“I insist.”

With a huff, Alistair begrudgingly tells Zevran where he lives. With a short farewell, Alistair now awaits the arrival of his eccentric friend. It’s not that long (or perhaps it was, the sickness was warping time) before his friend arrives, knocking on the door three times. Alistair, wrapped up in his hoard of blankets, shuffles over, opening it slightly only for it to be thrown open by his guest.

 

“My friend! You look dreadful!!” Zevran exclaims, not even allowing Alistair to speak, “Go to bed, let me get settled in and I’ll be your  _ personal  _ nurse for tonight.”

His wink makes Alistair flinch, but, following the man’s commands, he goes to bed, wrapping himself up even more in the covers. It takes a bit, he hears a lot of clanging from his kitchen, but soon Zevran waltzes on in, carrying a tray of tea and some weird slime of sorts.

“Alright my friend,” his eccentric  _ nurse  _ says, “This is the first step to getting well. First, drink this medicine; home remedy that has always worked wonders.”

“... It’s slime,” Alistair manages out, before receiving a spoonful of it against his will. And it was, in both his current and previous lives, the most god awful, gut wrenching,  _ disgusting  _ with a hint of  _ god abandoned us for a reason  _ taste he had ever tasted to date. Death was imminent.

“It’s  _ medicine, _ ” Zevran says, “And the sooner you take all of it, the better. Now, drink up!!”

Alistair’s will to live slowly disappears with each gulp that is forced upon him. When he finishes, he’s ready to curl up and allow the servant of death to take him now.

“There, not too bad, no? To help ease the pain, drink this.”

He’s now handed a cup of tea. He glares at it, then to Zevran. The man chuckles.

“I promise it is just regular tea with honey,” he says, “Or would you rather I feed you this as well?”

Alistair takes the cup, and drinks it. He could cry from how amazingly, wonderfully normal it tastes. It’s a blessing, a true miracle that tea could taste this good despite being, well, regular tea you can get anywhere.

“Now, I’m going to prepare a bath for you, with some herbal remedies and salts to help ease the body aching. Just relax for now, my friend.”

And just like that, Zevran was gone. Alistair looks at the door for a moment afterward, before turning to look at himself in the mirror. He looks like death. Probably cause he went up to its door and begged to be taken in. So he sighs, and flops backwards onto his bed, cringing just a bit from the aching.

 

Once he closes his eyes though, whispers once more run through his head. Echoes of the nature around them, the chatter of the townspeople, and eventually, even the growls of nearby darkspawn…

_ When he opened his eyes, he was walking down a misty field, fog hugging his body with every step. He turned to look beside him, where a blurred figure walked happily. _

_ "I've been thinking about those ink drawings," Alistair began, "What did you call them? Tattoos? Are you... erm, still willing to do one?" _

_ The figure beside him chuckled, their form shimmering as they say, "Oh-ho! You've decided to take the plunge, have you? What is a little pain, am I right?" _

_ "I'm not worried about that. I think they look interesting, though I'd want mine..." he hesitated, but couldn’t help but smile at how silly this all was, "... I'd want mine smaller. When can you do it?" _

_ "Not so fast, my friend!" the blur behind him began to take shape of a man shorter than Alistair, "There is an entire ritual to how this done, do you not  _ know?"

_ Before Alistair could ask anything, light rain began to fall. He soon realized Ryleigh and Leliana were further up ahead, as Ryleigh urged the group to hurry onwards. They rushed to take shelter, running under a group of trees. Though the rain slipped through the branches and leaves, it was a bit better than getting soaked. Alistair watched Ryleigh and Leliana converse, before looking back to the figure beside him. _

 

_ "You were saying?" _

_ The figure chuckled as they continue, "Well, first I need to bathe you in a mixture of olives and rosewater." _

_ "You need to... bathe me?" Alistair was a bit taken aback, "That seems... odd..." _

_ "No, no, not at all. It needs to be worked into your skin, preparing to receive the ink. The massage is quite pleasurable, do not worry. You are in good hands." _

_ "The... massage?"  _

_ Alistair frowned, as the blur figure grinned, clearly looking pleased with himself. _

_ "You're..." Alistair gasped, realizing what was happening, "You're having me on, aren't you?!" _

_ "I might be. I might not be. Shall I describe the rest of the ritual  to you?" _

_ "Hmm, no. No, on second thought, I'll just pass." _

_ The figure laughed, "Excellent choice!" _

 

_ "Whatcha talking about?" Ryleigh asked, grinning, as if she didn't know. Alistair huffed, crossing his arms. _

_ "Zevran here is being cheeky," he said, as the blur faded and Zevran stood beside him, snickering, "Thinks it's so funny to pull my leg." _ _ " _

_ Do not take it so personally my friend!" Zevran laughed, "It was nothing more than silly jest!" _

_ "I kinda want a tattoo though," Ryleigh said with a coy smile on her face, "Maybe one of a flower!" _

_ "No, no, definitely not! I am not letting this man touch you with his olive baths and weird massages!" _

_ Ryleigh laughed alongside Zevran at Alistair's dismay. He eventually couldn’t help but laugh as well after a bit, it was all so silly... _

 

He opens his eyes once more, in his bed, his apartment, the memories of an old life now settling in more comfortably than others. Perhaps it was because, despite his eccentric behaviors, Zevran was a rather treasured friend, who always had more wit and charm than Alistair could even muster. He wonders if Zevran now remembers him too. Ironic considering how the two were now in the same house together…

He gets his answer after ten minutes, when Zevran slowly re-enters the room, and takes a seat on the edge, looking at Alistair wistfully. The man can only grin.

“Took you long enough,” he croaks, “Is it filled with olives and rosewater?”

“Ha! We haven’t planned where the tattoo will be.”

“Nor when the massage will occur.”

Zevran laughs, before he took Alistair’s hand in his, a sad smile on his face.

“I missed you, my friend,” he murmurs softly, “It’s comforting to have old memories back. I was worried perhaps we’d never remember one another.”

“Doubt it. You’re hard to forget.”

“As are you, Alistair. You have a charm not many can replicate. One of a kind… as did Morrigan, Leliana… and Ryleigh most certainly.”

“You were her best friend.”

“Not as close as Morrigan, but close enough that I cared deeply for her. I was honored to be her friend. I loved her dearly… and yet, here we are. Missing the one girl who united all of us. Leaderless.”

“We’ll find her. We have to.”

“I hope so, Alistair. I hope so.”

 

The man proceeds to guide Alistair to his bathroom before heading back into the kitchen, and allowing the other some privacy. The bath is a godsend to his aching body, and it helps clear the stuffiness in his nose as well as the fog in his mind. He honestly can tell that whatever Zevran is doing is working. He feels much better than he did earlier, and it has only been maybe a few hours or so. A miracle worker.

But with this, all four of them remembered one another. Sure, there were others, but Alistair hasn’t met them yet. He knows there were still missing pieces but… he has enough for now.

Zevran is right though. They are essentially, leaderless. Ryleigh is the last piece in the puzzle. They need to know what happened to her, and then, perhaps, they would learn why they even remembered everything in the first place. They could… they would be able to fix their mistakes, and give her a happier life.

Duncan’s words echo in his mind. He sighs. Or they would go their separate ways. That was always a possibility. Who knows how it’ll all play out. Alistair though genuinely hopes for the best. He wants a happy life with her.

 

Hopefully they could start being friends once more.

 

“Alistair!” he hears Zevran call, “If you remain any longer in there, I may start giving you that massage!”

He practically slides into the door when he jumps out of the bath to lock it, and groans loudly at the intense pain he felt from such a sudden action. He hears Zevran losing it on the other side.

Miracle worker is now revoked. Zevran is a menace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello!! long time no see!! or, perhaps, nice to meet you if you're a new reader? lolol, either way, thank you so much for reading my fic!! i'm sorry it's been so long, real life is such a chore haha, but i finally got around to writing, editing and, well, publishing chpt 5 of this fanfic! so yay for that!! i can finally write all that juicy drama i have stored, hehehe... 
> 
> either way though, i hope you enjoyed this new chapter!! please lemme know if there's any mistakes, as well as what you thought!! kudos are appreciated, but i'd love to hear from you personally in the comments!! or, if you want, message me on tumblr! 
> 
> thank you so much for reading this chapter, love you guys!! <3
> 
> (contact me at oceanicmars.tumblr.com!!)


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